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Sir   Launcelot  sees  tlie  Sangreal  in  a  vision. 
"  A  Sinful  man,  and  unconfessed. 
He  took  the  SangreaFs  holy  quest, 
And  slumbering,  saw  the  vision  high, 
Uo  might  uot  view  with  waking  eyv.-' 


Page  203. 


THE 


AGE    OF    CHIVALRY. 

PAllT    I. 

KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

PART    II. 

THE    MABINOGEONj    OB,   WELSH    POPUIAR    TALES. 

BY 

THOMAS     B  U  L  F  I  N  C  II, 

AUTHOR  OP   "the  AGE   OP  FABLE," 


"  Here  may  we  read  of  Spenser's  fairy  themes, 
And  those  that  Milton  loved  in  youthful  years  ; 
The  sage  enchanter  Merlin's  subtle  schemes  ; 
-The  feats  of  Arthur,  and  his  knightly  peers." 

Wordsworth. 


4l  i  V  MiX^X'Jt- 


OSTON: 
CROSBY,    NICHOLS,  AND   COMPANY, 

117  Washington  Street. 
1859. 


&^5 


\ 


4  ^^7  ^^ 

I  to  Act  of  Cbngress,  in 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1858,  by 

THOMAS    BULFINCH, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


TRUSTED  BT 
GEO.    C.    BAND    it.    AVERY. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 
ELECTROTTPED   AND    PRINTED    BY  METCALJ'   AND   COMPANY. 


TO  MRS.   JOSEPH   COOLIDGE. 


Dkak  Madam  :  — 

To  you,  who  have  sympathized  in  my  tastes,  and 
encouraged  my  researches,  I  dedicate  this  attempt  to 
depict  the  age  of  chivalry,  and  to  revive  the  legends  of 
the  land  of  our  fathers. 

Your  friend  and  cousin, 

T.  B. 


|tnn7EiisiTTl 

PHEFACE. 


In  a  former  work  the  compiler  of  this  volume  endeavored 
to  impart  the  pleasures  of  classical  learning  to  the  English 
reader,  by  presenting  the  stories  of  Pagan  mythology  in  a 
form  adapted  to  modern  taste.  In  the  present  volume  the 
attempt  has  been  made  to  treat  in  the  same  way  the  stories 
of  the  second  "  age  of  fable,"  the  age  which  witnessed  the 
dawn  of  the  several  states  of  Modern  Europe. 

It  is  believed  that  this  presentation  of  a  literature  which 
held  unrivalled  sway  over  the  imaginations  of  our  ancestors, 
for  many  centuries,  will  not  be  without  benefit  to  the  read- 
er, in  addition  to  the  amusement  it  may  afford.  The  tales, 
though  not  to  be  trusted  for  their  facts,  are  worthy  of  all 
credit  as  pictures  of  manners  ;  and  it  is  beginning  to  be 
held  that  the  manners  and  modes  of  thinking  of  an  age  are 
a  more  important  part  of  its  history  than  the  conflicts  of  its 
peoples,  generally  leading  to  no  result.  Besides  this,  the 
literature  of  romance  is  a  treasure-house  of  poetical  mate- 
rial, to  which  modern  poets  frequently  resort.  The  Italiai 
poets,  Dante  and  Ariosto,  the  English,  Spenser,  Scott, 
and  Tennyson,  and  our  own  Longfellow  and  Lowell,  ar* 
examples  of  this. 


Tl  PREFACE. 

These  legends  ai*e  so  connected  with  each  other,  so  con- 
sistently adapted  to  a  group  of  characters  strongly  individ- 
ualized in  Arthur,  Launcelot,  and  their  compeers,  and  so 
lighted  up  by  the  fires  of  imagination  and  invention,  that 
they  seem  as  well  adapted  to  the  poet's  purpose  as  the 
legends  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  mythology.  And  if 
every  well-educated  young  person  is  expected  to  know  the 
story  of  the  Golden  Fleece,  why  is  the  quest  of  the  San- 
greal  less  worthy  of  his  acquaintance  ?  Or  if  an  allusion 
to  the  shield  of  Achilles  ought  not  to  pass  unapprehended, 
why  should  one  to  Escalibar,  the  famous  sword  of  Ar- 
thur ;  — 

"  Of  Arthur,  who,  to  upper  light  restored, 
With  that  tenific  sword, 
Which  yet  he  brandishes  for  future  war, 
Shall  lift  his  country's  fame  above  the  polar  star  "  1  =* 

It  is  an  additional  recommendation  of  our  subject,  that 
it  tends  to  cherish  in  our  minds  the  idea  of  the  source  from 
which  we  sprung.  We  are  entitled  to  our  full  share  in 
the  glories  and  recollections  of  the  land  of  our  forefathers, 
down  to  the  time  of  colonization  thence.  The  associations 
which  spring  from  this  source  must  be  fruitful  of  good 
influences ;  among  which  not  the  least  valuable  is  the  in- 
creased enjoyment  which  such  associations  afford  to  the 
American  traveller  when  he  visits  England,  and  sets  his 
foot  upon  any  of  her  renowned  localities. 

The  legends  of  Charlemagne  and  his  peers  are  neces- 
sary to  complete  the  subject,  but  they  must  be  given,  if  at 
all,  in  a  future  volume. 

*  Wordsworth. 


CONTENTS, 


PART  I. 


KING  ARTHUR  AND  HIS  KNIGHTS. 

Chapter  Pagk 

I.   Introduction 13 

II.   The  Mythical  History  of  England 34 

III.  Merlin ...>,..  50 

IV.  Arthur 57 

V.  Arthur,  continued 72 

YI.   Sir  Gawain 86 

VII.   Caradoc  Brief  bras ;  or,  Caradoc  with  the  Shrunken  Arm     92 

VIII.  Launcelot  of  the  Lake 101 

IX.   The  Adventure  of  the  Cart 118 

X.   The  Lady  of  Shalott \.  127 

XI.   Queen  Guenever's  Peril 133 

XII.   Tristram  and  Isoude 139 

XIII.  Tristram  and  Isoude,  continued 151 

XIV.  Sir  Tristram's  Battle  with  Sir  Launcelot 162 

XV.  The  Round  Table 167 

XVL   SirPalamedes 174 

XVIL   Sir  Tristram 179 

XVIII.  Perceval 185 

XIX.   The  Sangreal,  or  Holy  Graal 196 

XX.   The  Sangreal,  continued 205 

XXI.   The  Sangreal,  continued 213 

XXII.   Sir  Agrivain's  Treason 227 

XXIII.    Morte  D  Arthur 239 


CONTENTg. 


PART  II. 

THE  MABINOGEON. 

Chapter  Page 

I.  The  Britons 257 

n.  The  Lady  of  the  Fountain 264 

m.  The  Lady  of  the  Fountain,  continued 272 

IV.  The  Lady  of  the  Fountain,  continued 284 

V.  Geraint,  the  Son  of  Erbin 295 

VI.   Geraint,  the  Son  of  Erbin,  continued 310 

VII.   Geraint,  the  Son  of  Erbin,  continued 322 

Vin.  Pwyll,  Prince  of  Dyved 338 

IX.  Branwen,  the  Daughter  of  Llyr 347 

X.   Manawyddan       360 

XI.   Kihvich  and  Olwen 376 

XII.  Kilwich  and  Olwen,  continued 394 

XnL  Taliesin 404 


THE   AGE   OF   CHIVALRY. 


PART    I. 


KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 


luiriviEsiTrl 

KING  ARTHUR  AND   HIS   KNIGHTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 


INTRODUCTION. 


On  the  decline  of  the  Roman  power,  about  five 
centuries  after  Christ,  the  countries  of  Northern 
Europe  were  left  almost  destitute  of  a  national 
government.  Numerous  chiefs,  more  or  less  pow- 
erful, held  local  sway,  as  far  as  each  could  enforce 
his  dominion,  and  occasionally  those  chiefs  would 
unite  for  a  common  object ;  but,  in  ordinary  times, 
they  were  much  more  likely  to  be  found  in  hostility 
to  one  another.  Ip.  such  a  state  of  things,  the  rights 
of  the  humbler  classes  of  society  were  at  the  mercy 
of  every  assailant ;  and  it  is  plain  that,  without  some 
check  upon  the  lawless  power  of  the  chiefs,  society 
must  have  relapsed  into  barbarism.  Such  checks 
were  found,  first,  in  the  rivalry  of  the  chiefs  them- 
selves, whose  mutual  jealousy  made  them  restraints 
upon  one  another  ;  secondly,  in  the  influence  of  the 
Church,  which,  by  every  motive,  pure  or  selfish, 
was  pledged  to  interpose  for  the  protection  of  the 

2 


14  KIXQ    AIITHLR    AND    1II9    KNIGHTS. 

weak;  and  lastly,  in  the  generosity  and  sense  of 
right  which,  however  crushed  under  the  weight  of 
passion  and  selfishness,  dwell  naturally  in  the  heart 
of  man.  From  this  last  source  sprang  Chivalry, 
which  framed  an  ideal  of  the  heroic  character,  com- 
bining invincible  strength  and  valor,  justice,  mod- 
esty, loyalty  to  superiors,  courtesy  to  equals,  com- 
passion to  weakness,  and  devotedness  to  the  Church ; 
an  ideal  which,  if  never  met  with  in  real  life,  was' 
acknowledged  by  all  as  the  highest  model  for  emu- 
lation. 

The  word  Chivalry  is  derived  from  the  French 
chevalj  a  horse.  The  word  knight^  which  originally 
meant  boy  or  servant,  was  particularly  applied  to  a 
young  man  after  he  was  admitted  to  the  privilege 
of  bearing  arms.  This  privilege  was  conferred  on 
youths  of  family  and  fortune  only,  for  the  mass  of 
the  people  were  not  furnished  with  arms.  The 
kniglit  then  was  a  mounted  warrior,  a  man  of  rank, 
or  in  the  service  and  maintenance  of  some  man  of 
rank,  generally  possessing  some  independent  means 
of  support,  but  often  relying  mainly  on  the  grati- 
tude of  those  whom  he  served  for  the  supply  of  his 
wants,  and  often,  no  doubt,  resorting  to  the  means 
which  power  confers  on  its  possessor. 

In  time  of  war  the  knight  was,  with  his  followers, 
in  the  camp  of  his  sovereign,  or  commanding  in  the 
field,  or  holding  some  castle  for  him.  In  time  of 
peace  he  was  often  in  attendance  at  his  sovereign's 
court,  gracing  with  his  presence  the  banquets  and 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

tournaments  with  which  princes  cheered  their  leis- 
ure. Or  he  was  traversing  the  country  in  quest  of 
adventure,  jorofessedly  bent  on  redressing  Avrongs 
and  enforcing  rights,  sometimes  in  fidfilment  of 
some  vow  of  religion  or  of  love.  Tliese  wandering 
knights  were  called  knights-errant ;  they  were  wel- 
come guests  in  the  castles  of  the  nobility,  for  tlieir 
presence  enlivened  the  dulness  of  those  secluded 
abodes,  and  they  were  received  with  honor  at  the 
abbeys,  which  often  owed  the  best  part  of  their  rev- 
enues to  the  patronage  of  the  knights  ;  but  if  no 
castle  or  abbey  or  hermitage  were  at  hand,  their 
hardy  habits  made  it  not  intolerable  to  them  to  lie 
down,  supperless,  at  the  foot  of  some  wayside  cross, 
and  pass  the  night. 

It  is  evident  that  the  justice  administered  by  such 
an  instrumentality  must  have  been  of  the  rudest 
description.  The  force  whose  legitimate  purpose 
was  to  redress  wrongs,  might  easily  be  perverted  to 
inflict  them.  Accordingly,  we  find  in  the  romances, 
which,  however  fabulous  in  facts,  are  true  as  pic- 
tures of  manners,  that  a  knightly  castle  was  often 
a  terror  to  the  surrounding  country  ;  that  its  dun- 
geons were  full  of  oppressed  knights  and  ladies, 
waiting  for  some  champion  to  appear  to  set  them 
free,  or  to  be  ransomed  with  money  ;  that  hosts  of 
idle  retainers  were  ever  at  hand  to  enforce  their 
lord's  behests,  regardless  of  law  and  justice ;  and 
that  the  rights  of  the  unarmed  multitude  were  of 
no  account.     This  contrariety  of  fact  and  theory 


16  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

in  regard  to  chivalry  vnll  account  for  the  opposite 
impressions  which  exist  in  men's  minds  respecting 
it.  While  it  has  been  the  theme  of  the  most  fer- 
yid  eulogium  on  the  one  part,  it  has  been  as  eagerly 
denounced  on  the  other.  On  a  cool  estimate,  we 
cannot  but  see  reason  to  congratulate  ourselves  that 
it  has  given  way  in  modern  times  to  the  reign  of 
law,  and  that  the  civil  magistrate,  if  less  pictu- 
resque, has  taken  the  place  of  the  mailed  champion. 

THE    TRAINING   OF   A    KNIGHT. 

The  preparatory  education  of  candidates  for 
knighthood  was  long  and  arduous.  At  seven  years 
of  age  the  noble  children  were  usually  removed 
from  their  father's  house  to  the  court  or  castle  of 
their  future  patron,  and  placed  under  the  care  of 
a  governor,  who  taught  them  the  first  articles  of 
religion,  and  respect  and  reverence  for  their  lords 
and  superiors,  and  initiated  them  in  the  ceremonies 
of  a  court.  They  were  called  pages ,  valets  or  var- 
lets^  and  their  office  was  to  carve,  to  wait  at  table, 
and  to  perform  other  menial  services,  which  were 
not  then  considered  humiliating.  In  their  leisure 
hours  they  learned  to  dance  and  play  on  the  harp, 
were  instructed  .  in  the  mysteries  of  looods  and 
rivers^  that  is,  in  hunting,  falconry,  and  fishing, 
and  in  wrestling,  tilting  with  spears,  and  perform- 
ing other  military  exercises  on  horseback.  At  four- 
teen the  page  became  an  esquire,  and  began  a  course 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

of  severer  and  more  laborious  exercises.  To  vault 
^n,  a  horse  in  heavy  armor  ;  to  run,  to  scale  walls, 
and  spring  over  ditches,  under  the  same  encum- 
brance ;  to  wrestle,  to  wield  the  battle-axe  for  a 
length  of  time,  without  raising  the  visor  or  taking 
breath ;  to  perform  with  grace  all  the  evolutions  of 
horsemanship, — were  necessary  preliminaries  to  the 
reception  of  knighthood,  which  was  usually  conferred 
at  twenty-one  years  of  age,  when  the  young  man's 
education  was  supposed  to  be  completed.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  esquires  were  no  lesg  assiduously  en- 
gaged in  acquiring  all  those  refinements  of  civility 
which  formed  what  was  in  that  age  called  courtesy. 
The  same  castle  in  which  they  received  their  educa- 
tion was  usually  thronged  with  young  persons  of  the 
other  sex,  and  the  page  was  encouraged,  at  a  very 
early  age,  to  select  some  lady  of  the  court  as  the 
mistress  of  his  heart,  to  whom  he  was  taught  to  refer 
all  his  sentiments,  words,  and  actions.  The  service 
of  his  mistress  was  the  glory  and  occupation  of  a 
knight,  and  her  smiles,  bestowed  at  once  by  affec- 
tion and  gratitude,  were  held  out  as  the  recompense 
of  his  well-directed  valor.  Religion  united  its  influ- 
ence with  those  of  loyalty  and  love,  and  the  order 
of  knighthood,  endowed  with  all  the  sanctity  and 
religious  awe  that  attended  the  priesthood,  became 
an  object  of  ambition  to  the  greatest  sovereigns. 

The  ceremonies  of  initiation  were  peculiarly  sol- 
emn. After  undergoing  a  severe  fast,  and  spending 
whole  nights  in  prayer,  the  candidate  confessed,  and 


18  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

received  the  sacrament.  He  then  clothed  himself 
in  snow-white  garments,  and  repaired  to  the  church, 
or  the  hall,  where  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place, 
bearing  a  knightly  sword  suspended  from  his  neck, 
which  the  officiating  priest  took  and  blessed,  and 
then  returned  to  him.  The  candidate  then,  with 
folded  arms,  knelt  before  the  presiding  knight,  who, 
after  some  questions  about  his  motives  and  purposes 
in  requesting  admission,  administered  to  him  the 
oaths,  and  granted  his  request.  Some  of  the  knights 
present,  sometimes  even  ladies  and  damsels,  handed 
to  him  in  succession  the  spurs,  the  coat  of  mail,  the 
hauberk,  the  armlet  and  gauntlet,  and  lastly  he 
girded  on  the  sword.  He  then  knelt  again  before 
the  president,  who,  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  him 
the  "  accolade,"  which  consisted  of  three  strokes, 
with  the  flat  of  a  sword,  on  the  shoulder  or  neck  of 
the  candidate,  accompanied  by  the  words :  "  In  the 
name  of  God,  of  St.  Michael,  and  St.  George,  I 
make  thee  a  knight ;  be  valiant,  courteous,  and 
loyal !  "  Then  he  received  his  helmet,  his  shield, 
and  spear  ;  and  thus  the  investiture  ended. 


FREEMEN,   VILLAINS,   SERFS,   AND   CLERKS. 

The  other  classes  of  which  society  was  composed 
were,  first,  freemen,  owners  of  small  portions  of 
land,  independent,  though  they  sometimes  volunta- 
rily became  the  vassals  of  their  more  opulent  neigh- 
bors, whose  power  was  necessary  for  their  protection. 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

The  other  two  classes,  which  were  much  the  most 
numerous,  were  either  serfs  or  villains,  both  of 
which  were  slaves. 

The  serfs  were  in  the  lowest  state  of  slavery. 
All  the  fruits  of  their  labor  belonged  to  the  master 
whose  land  they  tilled,  and  by  whom  they  were  fed 
and  clothed.  * 

The  villains  were  less  degraded.  Their  situation 
seems  to  have  resembled  that  of  the  Russian  peas- 
ants at  this  day.  Like  the  serfs,  they  were  attached 
to  the  soil,  and  were  transferred  with  it  by  pur- 
chase ;  but  they  paid  only  a  fixed  rent  to  the  land- 
lord, and  had  a  right  to  dispose  of  any  surplus  that 
might  arise  from  their  industry. 

The  term  clerk  was  of  very  extensive  import.  It 
comprehended,  originally,  such  persons  only  as  be- 
longed to  the  clergy,  or  clerical  order,  among  whom, 
however,  might  be  found  a  multitude  of  married 
persons,  artisans  or  others.  But  in  process  of  time 
a  much  wider  rule  was  established ;  every  one  that 
could  read  being  accounted  a  clerk ^  or  clericusj  and 
allowed  the  ^'benefit  of  clergy,"  that  is,  exemption 
from  capital  and  some  other  forms  of  punishment, 
in  case  of  crime. 

TOURNAMENTS. 

The  splendid  pageant  of  a  tournament  between 
knights,  its  gaudy  accessories  and  trappings,  and  its 
chivalrous  regulations,  originated  in  France.  Tour- 
naments were  repeatedly  condemned  by  the  Church, 


20  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

probably  on  account  of  the  quarrels  they  led  to,  and 
the  often  fatal  results.  The  "joust,"  or  "just,"  was 
different  from  the  tournament.  In  these,  knights 
fought  with  their  lances,  and  their  object  was  to 
unhorse  tlieir  antagonists ;  while  the  tournaments 
were  intended  for  a  display  of  skill  and  address 
in  evolutions,  and  with  Various  weapons,  and 
greater  courtesy  was  observed  in  the  regulations. 
By  these  it  was  forbidden  to  wound  the  horse,  or 
to  use  the  point  of  the  sword,  or  to  strike  a  knight 
after  he  had  raised  his  visor,  or  unlaced  his  hel- 
met. The  ladies  encouraged  their  knights  in  these 
exercises ;  they  bestowed  prizes,  and  the  conqueror's 
feats  were  the  theme  of  romance  and  song.  The 
stands  overlooking  the  ground,  or  course,  were 
varied  in  the  shapes  of  towers,  terraces,  galleries, 
and  pensile  gardens,  magnificently  decorated  with 
tapestry,  pavilions,  and  banners.  Every  combatant 
proclaimed  the  name  of  the  lady  whose  servant 
(T amour  he  was.  He  was  wont  to  look  up  to  the 
stand,  and  strengthen  his  courage  by  the  sight  of 
the  bright  eyes  that  were  raining  their  influence  on 
him  from  above.  The  knights  also  carried  favors^ 
consisting  of  scarfs,  veils,  sleeves,  bracelets,  clasps, 
—  in  short,  some  piece  of  female  habiliment,  —  at- 
tached to  their  helmets,  shields,  or  armor.  If, 
during  the  combat,  any  of  these  appendages  were 
dropped  or  lost,  the  fair  donor  would  at  times  send 
her  knight  new  ones,  especially  if  pleased  with  his 
exertions. 


INTRODUCTION.  21 


MAIL   ARMOR. 


Mail  armor,  of  •wliicli  the  hauberk  is  a  species, 
and  which  derived  its  name  from  maille,  a  French 
word  tor  mesh,  was  of  two  kinds,  plate  or  scale  mail, 
and  chain  mail.  It  was  originally  nsed  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  body  only,  reaching  no  lower  than  the 
knees.  It  was  shaped  like  a  carter's  frock,  and 
bound  round  the  waist  by  a  girdle.  Gloves  and 
hose  of  mail  were  afterwards  added,  and  a  hood, 
which,  when  necessary,  was  drawn  over  the  head, 
leaving  the  face  alone  uncovered.  To  protect  the 
skin  from  the  impression  of  the  iron  network  of  the 
chain  mail,  a  quilted  lining  was  employed,  which, 
however,  was  insufficient,  and  the  bath  was  used  to 
efface  the  marks  of  the  armor. 

The  hauberk  was  a  complete  covering  of  double 
chain  mail.  Some  hauberks  opened  before,  like  a 
modern  coat ;  others  were  closed  like  a  shirt. 

The  chain  mail  of  which  they  were  composed 
was  formed  by  a  number  of  iron  links,  each  link 
having  others  inserted  into  it,  the  whole  exhibiting 
a  kind  of  network,  of  which  (in  some  instances  at 
least)  the  meshes  were  circular,  with  each  link  sep- 
arately riveted. 

The  hauberk  was  proof  against  the  most  violent 
blow  of  a  sword  ;  but  the  point  of  a  lance  might  pass 
through  the  meshes,  or  drive  the  ij*on  into  tlie  flesh. 
To  guard  against  this,  a  thick  and  well-stuffed 
doublet  was  worn  imderneath,  under  which  was 
commonly  added  an  iron  breastplatq.     Hence  the 


22  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

expression  ''  to  pierce  both  plate  and  mail,"  so  com- 
mon in  the  earlier  poets. 

Mail  armor  continued  in  general  nse  till  about 
the  year  1300,  when  it  was  gradually  supplanted'by 
plate  armor,  or  suits  consisting  of  pieces  or  plates  of 
solid  iron,  adapted  to  the  different  parts  of  the  body. 

Shields  were  generally  made  of  wood,  covered 
with  leather,  or  some  similar  substance.  To  secure 
them,  in  some  sort,  from  being  cut  through  by  the 
sword,  they  were  surrounded  with  a  hoop  of  metal. 

HELMETS. 

The  helmet  was  composed  of  two  parts;  the  head- 
piece,  which  was  strengthened  within  by  several 
circles  of  iron ;  and  the  visor,  which,  as  the  name 
implies,  was  a  sort  of  grating  to  see  through,  so  con- 
trived as,  by  sliding  in  a  groove,  or  turning  on  a 
pivot,  to  be  raised  or  lowered  at  pleasure.  Some 
helmets  had  a  further  improvement  called  a  bever, 
from  the  Italian  bevere,  to  drink.  The  ventayle, 
or  "  air-passage,"  is  another  name  for  this.    . 

To  secure  the  helmet  from  the  possibility  of  fall- 
ing, or  of  being  struck  off,  it  was  tied  by  several 
laces  to  the  meshes  of  the  hauberk ;  consequently, 
when  a  knight  was  overthrown,  it  was  necessary  to 
undo  these  laces  before  he  could  be  put  to  death ; 
though  this  was  sometimes  effected  by  lifting  up  the 
skirt  of  the  hauberk,  and  stabbing  him  in  the  belly. 
The  instrument  of  death  was  a  small  dagger,  worn 
on  the  rijrht  side. 


IXTRODUCTION.  23 

ROMANCES.  ^  "^  *  "       ' '  ■'■     "' 

In  ages  when  there  were  no  books,  when  noble- 
men and  princes  themselves  could  not  read,  history 
or  tradition  was  monopolized  by  the  story-tellers. 
They  inherited,  generation  after  generation,  the 
wondrous  tales  of  their  predecessors,  which  they 
retailed  to  the  public  with  such  additions  of  their 
own  as  their  acquired  information  supplied  them 
with.  Anachronisms  became  of  course  very  com- 
mon, and  errors  of  geography,  of  locality,  of  man- 
ners, equally  so.  Spurious  genealogies  were  in- 
vented, in  which  Arthur  and  his  knights,  and 
Charlemagne  and  his  paladins,  were  made  to  de- 
rive their  descent  from  JEneas,  Hector,  or  some 
other  of  the  Trojan  heroes. 

With  regard  to  the  derivation  of  the  word  Ro- 
mance^ we  trace  it  to  the  fact  that  the  dialects  which 
were  formed  in  Western  Europe,  from  the  admix- 
ture of  Latin  with  the  native  languages,  took  tlie 
name  of  Langue  Romaine,  The  French  language 
was  divided  into  two  dialects.  The  river  Loire  was 
their  common  boundary.  Li  the  provinces  to  the 
south  of  that  river  the  affirmative,  i/es,  was  ex- 
pressed by  the  word  oc ;  in  the  north  it  was  called 
oil  (oui)  ;  and  hence  Dante  has  named  the  southern 
language  langue  d'oc^  and  the  northern  langue  cVoiL 
The  latter,  which  was  carried  into  England  by  the 
Normans,  and  is  the  origin  of  the  present  French, 
may  be  called  the  French  Romane ;  and  the  former 


24  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  Provencal,  or  Provencial  Eomane,  because  it 
was  spoken  by  the  people  of  Provence  and  Langue- 
doc,  southern  provinces  of  France. 

These  dialects  were  soon  distinguished  by  very 
opposite  characters.  A  soft  and  enervating  climate, 
a  spirit  of  commerce  encouraged  by  an  easy  com- 
munication with  other  maritime  nations,  the  in- 
flux of  wealth,  and  a  more  settled  government,  may 
have  tended  to  polish  and  soften  the  diction  of  the 
Provencials,  whose  poets,  under  the  name  of  Trou- 
badours, were  the  masters  of  the  Italians,  and  par- 
ticularly of  Petrarch.  Their  favorite  pieces  were 
Sirventes  (satirical  pieces),  love-songs,  and  Ten- 
sons,  which  last  were  a  sort  of  dialogue  in  verse  be- 
tween two  poets,  who  questioned  each  other  on  some 
refined  points  of  love's  casuistry.  It  seems  the 
Provencials  were  so  completely  absorbed  in  these 
delicate  questions  as  to  neglect  and  despise  the 
composition  of  fabulous  histories  of  adventure  and 
knighthood,  which  they  left  in  a  great  measure  to 
the  poets  of  the  northern  part  of  the  kingdom, 
called  Trouveurs. 

At  a  time  when  chivalry  excited  universal  admi- 
ration, and  when  all  the  efforts  of  that  chivalry 
were  directed  against  the  enemies  of  religion,  it  was 
natural  that  literature  should  receive  the  same  im- 
pulse, and  that  history  and  fable  should  be  ran- 
sacked to  furnish  examples  of  courage  and  piety 
that  might  excite  increased  emulation.  Arthur  and 
Charlemame  were  the  two  heroes  selected  for  this 


INTIIODUCTIOX.  25 

purpose.  Arthur'^  pretensions  were  that  he  was  a 
brave,  though  not  always  a  successful  warrior ;  lie 
had  withstood  with  great  resolution  the  arms  of  the 
infidels,  that  is  to  say  of  the  Saxons,  and  his  mem- 
ory was  held  in  the  highest  estimation  by  his  coun- 
trymen, the  Britons,  who  carried  with  them  into 
Wales,  and  into  the  kindred  country  of  Armorica, 
or  Brittany,  the  memory  of  his  exploits,  which  their 
national  vanity  insensibly  exaggerated,  till  the  little 
prince  of  the  Silures  (South  Wales)  was  magnified 
into  the  conqueror  of  England,  of  Gaul,  and  of  the 
greater  part  of  Europe.  His  genealogy  was  gradu- 
ally carried  up  to  an  imaginary  Brutus,  and  to  the 
period  of  the  Trojan  war,  and  a  sort  of  chronicle 
was  composed  in  the  Welsh,  or  Armorican  language, 
which,  under  the  pompous  title  of  the  History  of  the 
Kings  of  Britain,  was  translated  into  Latin  by  Geof- 
frey of  Monmouth,  about  the  year  1150.  The  Welsh 
critics  consider  tlie  material  of  the  work  to  have 
been  an  older  history,  written  by  St.  Talian,  Bishop 
of  St.  Asaph,  in  the  seventh  century. 

As  to  Charlemagne,  though  his  real  merits  were 
sufficient  to  secure  his  immortality,  it  was  impossi- 
ble that  his  holy  wars  against  the  Saracens  should 
not  become  a  favorite  topic  for  fiction.  Accordingly, 
the  fabulous  history  of  these  wars  was  written,  prob- 
ably towards  the  close  of  tlie  eleventh  century,  by  a 
monk,  wlio,  thinking  it  would  add  dignity  to  his 
work  to  embellish  it  with  a  contemporary  name, 
3 


26  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

boldly  ascribed' it  to  Tiirpin,  who  Wfis  Archbishop  of 
Rheims  about  the  year  773. 

These  fabulous  chronicles  were  for  a  while  impris- 
oned in  languages  -of  local  only  or  of  professional 
access.  Both  Turpin  and  Geoffrey  might  indeed  be 
read  by  ecclesiastics,  the  sole  Latin  scholars  of  those 
times,  and  Geoifrey's  British  original  would  contrib- 
ute to  the  gratification  of  Welshmen ;  but  neither 
could  become  extensively  popular  till  translated  into 
some  language  of  general  and  familiar  use.  The 
Anglo-Saxon  was  at  that  time  used  only  by  a  con- 
quered and  enslaved  nation ;  the  Spanish  and  Ital- 
ian languages  were  not  yet  formed;  the  Norman 
French  alone  was  spoken  and  understood  by  the  no- 
bility in  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  and  therefore 
was  a  proper  vehicle  for  the  new  mode  of  compo- 
sition. 

That  language-was  fashionable  in  England  before 
the  Conquest,  and  became,  after  that  event,  the  only 
language  used  at  the  court  of  London.  As  tlie  vari- 
ous conquests  of  the  Normans,  and  the  enthusiastic 
valor  of  that  extraordinary  people,  had  familiarized 
the  minds  of  men  with  the  most  marvellous  events, 
their  poets  eagerly  seized  the  fabulous  legends  of 
Arthur  and  Charlemagne,  translated  them  into  the 
language  of  the  day,  and  soon  produced  a  variety  of 
imitations.  The  adventures  attributed  to  these  mon- 
archs,  and  to  their  distinguished  warriors,  together 
with  those  of  many  otlier  traditionary  or  imaginary 
lieroes,  composed  by  degrees  that  formidable  body  of 


INTRODUCTION.  2T 

marvellous  histories  which,  from  the  dialect  in  which 
the  most  ancient  of  them  were  written,  were  called 
Romances. 

METRICAL  ROMANCES. 

The  earliest  form  in  which  romances  appear  is 
that  of  a  rude  kind  of  verse.  In  this  form  it  is  sup- 
posed they  were  sung  or  recited  at  the  feasts  of  prin- 
ces and  knights  in  their  baronial  halls.  The  follow- 
ing specimen  of  the  language  and  style  of  Robert  de 
Beauvais,  who  flourished  in  1257,  is  from  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott's  Introduction  to  the  Romance  of  Sir  Tris- 
trem. 

'^  Ne  voil  i^as  emmi  dire, 
Ici  diverse  la  maty  ere, 
Entre  ceiis  qui  solent  cuntcr, 
E  de  le  cunte  Tristran  parler." 

"  I  will  not  say  too  much  about  it, 
So  diverse  is  the  matter, 
Among  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  telling 
And  relating  the  story  of  Tristran." 

This  is  a  specimen  of  the  language  which  was  in 
use  among  the  nobility  of  England,  in  the  ages  im- 
mediately after  the  Norman  conquest.  The  follow- 
ing is  a  specimen  of  the  English  that  existed  at  the 
same  time,  among  the  common  people.  Robert  de 
Brunne,  speaking  of  his  Latin  and  French  authori- 
ties, says : — 

"  Als  thai  haf  wry  ten  and  sayd 
Haf  I  allc  in  myn  Inglis  layd, 


28  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

In  symple  spechc  as  I  couthe, 
That  is  lightest  in  manne's  mouthe. 
AUc  for  tlie  luf  of  sym])le  men, 
That  strange  Inglis  cannot  ken." 

The  "  strange  Inglis"  being  the  language  of  the 
previous  specimen. 

It  was  not  till  toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
century  that  the  prose  romances  began  to  appear. 
These  works  generally  began  with  disowning  and 
discrediting  the  sources  from  which  in  reality  they 
drew  their  sole  information.  As  every  romance  was 
supposed  to  be  a  real  history,  the  compilers  of  those 
in  prose  would  have  forfeited  all  credit  if  they  had 
announced  themselves  as  mere  copyists  of  the  min- 
strels. On  the  contrary,  they  usually  state  that,  as 
the  popular  poems  upon  the  matter  in  question  con- 
tain many  ''  lesings,"  they  had  been  induced  to 
translate  the  real  and  true  history  of  such  or 
such  a  knight  from  the  original  Latin  or  Greek, 
or  from  the  ancient  British  or  Armorican  authori- 
ties, which  authorities  existed  only  in  their  own 
assertion. 

A  specimen  of  the  style  of  the  prose  romances  may 
be  found  in  the  followhig  extract  from  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  and  latest  of  them,  the  Morte  d'Ar- 
thur  of  Sir  Thomas  Mallory,  of  the  date  of  1485. 
From  this  work  mucli  of  the  contents  of  this  volume 
has  been  drawn,  with  as  close  an  adherence  to  the 
original  style  as  was  thought  consistent  with  our 
plan  of  adapting  our  narrative  to  the  taste  of  mod- 
ern readers. 


INTRODUCTION.  29 

''It  is  notoyrly  knowcii  tliorugli  the  vnyuersal 
world  that  there  been  ix  worthy  and  the  best  that 
ever  were.  That  is  to  wete  thre  paynyms,  three 
Jewes,  and  three  crysten  men.  As  for  the  paynyms, 
they  were  tofore  the  Incarnacyon  of  Cryst  whiche 
were  named,  the  fyrst  Hector  of  Troye ;  the  second 
Alysaiinder  the  grete,  and  the  thyrd  Jiilyus  Cezar, 
Emperour  of  Rome,  of  whome  thystoryes  ben  wel 
kno  and  had.  And  as  for  the  thre  Jewes  whyche 
also  were  tofore  thyncarnacyon  of  our  Lord,  of 
whome  the  fyrst  was  Due  Josue,  whyche  brought 
the  chyldren  of  Israhel  into  the  londe  of  beheste ; 
the  second  Dauyd,  kyng  of  Jherusalem,  and  the 
thyrd  Judas  Machabeus  ;  of  these  thre  the  byble  re- 
herceth  al  theyr  noble  hystoryes  and  actes.  And 
sythe  the  sayd  Incarnacyon  haue  ben  tlie  noble 
crysten  men  stalled  and  admytted  thorugh  the  vny- 
uersal world  to  the  nombre  of  the  ix  beste  and  wor- 
thy, of  whome  was  fyrst  the  noble  Arthur,  whose 
noble  actes  I  purpose  to  wryte  in  this  present  book 
here  folowyng.  The  second  was  Charlemayn,  or 
Charles  the  grete,  of  whome  thystorye  is  had  in 
many  places  bothe  in  frensshe  and  englysshe,  and 
the  thyrd  and  last  was  Godefray  of  boloyn." 

THE   MABINOGEON. 

It  has  been  well  known  to  the  literati  and  anti- 
quarians of  Europe,  that  there  exist  in  the  great 
public  libraries  voluminous  manuscripts  of  roman- 

3* 


30  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

ces  and  tales  once  popular,  but  which  on  the  inven- 
tion of  printing  had  already  become ""  antiquated, 
and  fallen  into  neglect.  They  were  therefore  never 
printed,  and  seldom  perused  even  by  the  learned, 
imtil  about  half  a  century  ago,  when  attention 
was  again  directed  to  them,  and  they  were  found 
very  curious  monuments  of  ancient  manners,  habits, 
and  modes  of  thinking.  Several  liave  since  been 
edited,  some  by  individuals,  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  and 
the  poet  Southey,  others  by  antiquarian  societies. 
The  class  of  readers  which  could  be  counted  on  for 
such  publications  was  so  small,  that  no  inducement 
of  profit  could  be  found  to  tempt  editors  and  pub- 
lishers to  give  them  to  the  w^orld.  It  was  therefore 
only  a  few,  and  those  the  most  accessible,  which 
were  put  in  print.  There  was  a  class  of  manu- 
scripts of  this  kind  which  were  known,  or  rather 
suspected,  to  be  both  curious  and  valuable,  but 
which  it  seemed  almost  hopeless  to  expect  ever  to 
see  in  fair  printed  English.  These  were  the  Welsh 
popular  tales,  called  Mabinogcon^  a  plural  word,  the 
singular  being  Mabinogi^  a  tale.  Manuscripts  of 
these  were  contained  in  the  Bodleian  Library  at 
Oxford,  and  elsewhere,  but  the  difficulty  was  to 
find  translators  and  editors.  The  Welsh  is  a  spoken 
language  among  the  peasantry  of  Wales,  but  is  en- 
tirely neglected  by  the  learned,  unless  they  are  na- 
tives of  the  principality.  Of  the  few  Welsh  schol- 
ars none  were  found  Avho  took  sufficient  interest  in 
this  branch  of  learning  to  give  these  productions  to 


INTIIODUCTION.  31 

the  English  public.  Soiithey  and  Scott,  and  others 
who,  like  them,  loved  the  old  romantic  legends  of 
their  country,  often  urged  upon  the  Welsh  literati 
the  duty  of  reproducing  the  Mabinogeon.  Southey, 
in  the  preface  to  his  edition  of  Morte  d' Arthur,  says : 
"  The  specimens  which  I  liave  seen  are  exceedingly 
curious ;  nor  is  there  a  greater  desideratum  in  Brit- 
ish literature  than  an  edition  of  these  tales,  with  a 
literal  version,  and  such  comments  as  Mr.  Davies  of 
all  meu  is  best  qualified  to  give.  Certain  it  is  that 
many  of  the  Round  Table  fictions  originated  in 
Wales,  or  in  Bretagne,  and  probably  might  still  be 
traced  there." 

Again,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Charles  W.  W.  Wynn, 
dated  1819,  he  says:  — 

"  I  begin  almost  to  despair  of  ever  seeing  more  of 
the  Mabinogeon ;  and  yet,  if  some  competent  Welsh- 
man could  be  found  to  edit  it  carefully,  with  as  lit- 
eral a  version  as  possible,  I  am  sure  it  might  be 
made  worth  his  while  by  a  subscription,  printing  a 
small  edition  at  a  high  price,  perhaps  two  hundred 
at  five  guineas.  I  myself  would  gladly  subscribe  at 
that  price  per  volume  for  such  an  edition  of  the 
whole  of  your  genuine  remains  in  j)rose  and  verse. 
Till  some  such  collection  is  made,  the  '  gentlemen 
of  Wales'  ought  to  be  prohibited  from  wearing  a 
leek ;  ay,  and  interdicted  from  toasted  cheese  also. 
Your  bards  would  have  met  with  better  usage,  if 
they  had  been  Scotchmen." 

Sharon  Turner   and  Sir  Walter   Scott   also   ex- 


32  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

pressed  a  similar  wish  for  the  publication  of  the 
Welsh  manuscripts.  The  former  took  part  in  an 
attempt  to  effect  it,  through  the  instrumentality  of 
a  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welshman,  but,  we  judge,  by  what 
Southey  says  of  him,  imperfectly  acquainted  with 
English.  Southey's  language  is,  "  William  Owen 
lent  me  three  parts  of  the  Mabinogeon,  delightfully 
translated  into  so  Welsh  an  idiom  and  syntax  that 
such  a  translation  is  as  instructive  as  an  original." 
In  another  letter  he  adds,  "  Let  Sharon  make  his 
language  grammatical,  but  not  alter  their  idiom  in 
the  slightest  point." 

It  is  probable  Mr.  Owen  did  not  proceed  far  in 
an  undertaking  which,  so  executed,  could  expect  but 
little  popular  patronage.  It  was  not  till  an  individ- 
ual should  appear  possessed  of  the  requisite  knowl- 
edge of  the  two  languages,  of  enthusiasm  sufficient 
for  the  task,  and  of  pecuniary  resources  sufficient  to 
be  independent  of  the  booksellers  and  of  the  reading 
public,  that  such  a  work  could  be  confidently  ex- 
pected. Such  an  individual  has,  since  Southey's 
day  and  Scott's,  appeared  in  the  person  of  Lady 
Charlotte  Guest,  an  English  lady  united  to  a  gen- 
tleman of  property  in  Wales,  who,  having  acquired 
the  language  of  the  principality,  and  become  enthu- 
siastically fond  of  its  literary  treasures,  has  given 
them  to  the  English  reader,  in  a  dress  which  the 
printer's  and  the  engraver's  arts  have  done  their 
best  to  adorn.  In  four  royal  octavo  volumes,  con- 
taining the  Welsh   originals,  the   translation,  and 


INTRODUCTION.  SS 

ample  illustrations  from  French,  German,  and  other 
contemporary  and  affiliated  literature,  the  Mabino- 
geon  is  spread  before  us.  To  the  antiquarian  and 
the  student  of  language  and  ethnology  an  invalu- 
able treasure,  it  yet  can  hardly  in  such  a  form  win 
its  way  to  popular  acquaintance.  We  claim  no 
other  merit  than  that  of  bringing  it  to  the  knowledge 
of  our  readers,  of  abridging  its  details,  of  selecting 
its  most  attractive  portions,  and  of  faithfully  pre- 
serving throughout  the  style  in  which  Lady  Guest 
has  clothed  her  legends.  For  this  service  we  hope 
that  our  readers  will  confess  we  have  laid  them  un- 
der no  \vA\t  obligation. 


[uiriTERsirrl 


CHAPTER     II. 

THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY  OF  ENGLAND. 

The  illustrious  poet,  Milton,  in  his  History  of 
England,  is  the  author  whom  we  chiefly  follow  in 
this  chapter. 

According  to  the  earliest  accounts,  Albion,  a  giant, 
and  son  of  Neptune,  a  contemporary  of  Hercules, 
ruled  over  the  island,  to  which  he  gave  his  name. 
Presuming  to  oppose  the  progress  of  Hercules  in  his 
western  march,  he  was  slain  by  him. 

Another  story  is  that  Histion,  the  son  of  Japhet, 
the  son  of  Noah,  had  four  sons,  —  Francus,  Roma- 
nus,  Alemannus,  and  Britto,  from  whom  descended 
the  French,  Roman,  German,  and  British  people. 

Rejecting  these  and  other  like  stories,  Milton 
gives  more  regard  to  the  story  of  Brutus,  the  Tro- 
jan, which,  he  says,  is  supported  by  "  descents  of 
ancestry  long  continued,  laws  and  exploits  not 
plainly  seeming  to  be  borrowed  or  devised,  which 
on  the  common  belief  have  wrought  no  small  im- 
pression ;  defended  by  many,  denied  utterly  by  few." 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  35 

The  i^rincipal  authority  is  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth, 
whose  history,  written  in  the  twelfth  century,  pur- 
ports to  be  a  translation  of  a  history  of  Britain 
brought  over  from  the  opposite  shore  of  France, 
which,  under  the  name  of  Brittany,  was  chiefly 
peopled  by  natives  of  Britain,  who  from  time  to  time 
emigrated  thither,  driven  from  their  own  country  by 
the  inroads  of  the  Picts  and  Scots.  According  to 
this  authority,  Brutus  was  the  son  of  Silvius,  and 
he  of  Ascanius,  the  son  of  JGneas,  whose  flight  from 
Troy  and  settlement  in  Italy  will  be  found  narrated 
in  "The  Age  of  Fable." 

Brutus,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  attending  his  father 
to  the  chase,  unfortunately  killed  him  with  an  ar- 
row. Banished  therefor  by  his  kindred,  he  sought 
refuge  in  that  part  of  Greece  where  Helenus,  with 
a  band  of  Trojan  exiles,  had  become  established. 
But  Helenus  was  now  dead,  and  the  descendants  of 
the  Trojans  were  oppressed  by  Pandrasus,  the  king 
of  the  country.  Brutus,  being  kindly  received  among 
them,  so  throve  in  virtue  and  in  arms  as  to  win  the 
regard  of  all  the  emhient  of  the  land  above  all  others 
of  his  age.  In  consequence  of  this  the  Trojans  not 
only  began  to  hope,  but  secretly  to  persuade  him  to 
lead  them  the  way  to  liberty.  To  encourage  them, 
they  had  the  promise  of  help  from  Assaracus,  a  noble 
Greek  youtli,  whose  mother  was  a  Trojan.  He  had 
suffered  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the  king,  and  for  tliat 
reason  the  more  willingly  cast  in  his  lot  with  the 
Trojan  exiles. 


36  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Choosing  a  fit  opportunity,  Brutus  with  his  coun- 
trymen withdrew  to  the  woods  and  hills,  as  the 
safest  place  from  which  to  expostulate,  and  sent 
this  message  to  Pandrasus :  "  That  the  Trojans, 
holding  it  unworthy  of  their  ancestors  to  serve  in  a 
foreign  land,  had  retreated  to  the  woods,  choosing 
rather  a  savage  life  than  a  slavish  one.  If  that  dis- 
pleased him,  then,  with  his  leave,  they  would  depart 
to  some  other  country."  Pandrasus,  not  expecting 
so  bold  a  message  from  the  sons  of  captives,  went  in 
pursuit  of  them,  with  such  forces  as  he  could  gather, 
and  met  them  on  the  banks  of  the  Achelous,  where 
Brutus  got  the  advantage,  and  took  the  king  captive. 
The  result  was,  that  the  terms  demanded  by  the 
Trojans  were  granted  ;  the  king  gave  his  daughter 
Imogen  in  marriage  to  Brutus,  and  furnished  ship- 
ping, money,  and  fit  provision  for  them  all  to  depart 
from  the  land. 

The  marriage  being  solemnized,  and  shipping  from 
all  parts  got  together,  the  Trojans,  in  a  fleet  of  no 
less  than  three  hundred  and  twenty  sail,  betook 
themselves  to  the  sea.  On  the  third  day  they  ar- 
rived at  a  certain  island,  wliich  tliey  found  destitute 
of  inhabitants,  though  there  were  appearances  of 
former  habitation,  and  among  the  ruins  a  temple 
of  Diana.  Brutus,  here  performing  sacrifice  at  the 
shrine  of  the  goddess,  invoked  an  oracle  for  his 
guidance,  in  these  lines:  — 

"  Goddess  of  shades,  and  huntress,  who  at  Avill 
Walk'st  on  the  rollinjj  sphere,  and  throug^h  tlic  deep  ; 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  3i 

On  thy  third  realm,  tlic  earth,  look  now,  and  tell 
What  land,  what  seat  of  rest,  thou  bidd'st  me  seek  ; 
What  certain  scat  where  I  may  worsliip  thee 
For  aye,  with  temples  vowed  and  virgin  choirs." 

To  whom,  sleeping  before  the  altar,  Diana  in  a 
vision  tlius  answered  :  — 

"  Brutus  !  far  to  the  west,  in  the  ocean  wide, 
Beyond  the  realm  of  Gaul,  a  land  there  lies. 
Seagirt  it  lies,  where  giants  dwelt  of  okl ; 
Now,  void,  it  fits  thy  people  :  thither  bend 
Thy  course  ;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  lasting  scat ; 
There  to  thy  sons  another  Troy  shall  rise, 
And  kings  be  born  of  thee,  whose  dreaded  might 
Shall  awe  the  world,  and  conquer  nations  bold.'* 

Brutus,  guided  now,  as  he  thought,  by  Divine  di- 
rection, s])ed  his  course  towards  the  west,  and,  arriv- 
ing at  a  place  on  the  Tyrrhene  sea,  found  there  the 
descendants  of  certain  Trojans  who  with  Antenor 
came  into  Italy,  of  whom  Corineus  was  the  chief. 
These  joined  company,  and  the  ships  pursued  their 
way  till  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  Loire, 
in  France,  where  the  expedition  landed,  with  a  view 
to  a  settlement,  but  were  so  rudely  assaulted  by  the 
inhabitants  that  they  put  to  sea  again,  and  arrived 
at  a  part  of  the  coast  of  Britain,  now  called  Devon- 
shire, where  Brutus  felt  convinced  that  he  had  found 
tlie  promised  end  of  his  voyage,  landed  his  colony, 
and  took  possession. 

The  island,  not  yet  Britain,  but  Albion,  was  in  a 
manner  desert  and  inhospitable,  occupied  only  by  a 
remnant  of  the  jriant  race  whose  excessive  force  and 


38  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

tyranny  had  destroyed  the  others.  The  Trojans  en- 
countered these  and  extirpated  them,  Corineus  in 
particular  signalizing  himself  by  his  exploits  against 
them ;  from  whom  Cornwall  takes  its  name,  for  that 
region  fell  to  his  lot,  and  there  the  hugest  giants 
dwelt,  lurking  in  rocks  and  caves,  till  Corineus  rid 
the  land  of  them. 

Brutus  built  his  capital  city,  and  called  it  Troja- 
nova  (New  Troy),  changed  in  time  to  Trinovantum, 
now  London ;  *  and,  having  governed  the  isle  twen- 
ty-four years,  died,  leaving  three  sons,  Locrine, 
Albanact,  and  Camber.  Locrine  had  the  middle 
part.  Camber  the  west,  called  Cambria  from  him, 
and  Albanact  Albania,  now  Scotland.  Locrine  was 
married  to  Guendolen,  the  daughter  of  Corineus ; 
but,  having  seen  a  fair  maid  named  Estrildis,  who 
had  been  brought  captive  from  Germany,  he  became 
enamored  of  her,  and  had  by  her  a  daughter,  whose 
name  was  Sabra.  This  matter  was  kept  secret  while 
Corineus  lived ;  but  after  his  death,  Locrine  di- 
vorced Guendolen,  and  made  Estrildis  his  queen. 
Guendolen,  all  in  rage,  departed  to  Cornwall,  where 
Madan,  her  son,  lived,  who  had  been  brought  up  by 
Corineus,  his  grandfather.  Gathering  an  army  of 
her  father's  friends  and  subjects,  she  gave  battle  to 
her  husband's  forces,  and  Locrine  was  slain.  Guen- 
dolen caused  her  rival,  Estrildis,  with  her  daughter 

*  "  For  noble  Britons  sprong  from  Trojans  bold, 

And  Troynovant  was  built  of  old  Troy's  ashes  cold." 

Spenser,  Book  III.  Canto  IX.  38. 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  39 

Sabra,  to  be  thrown  into  the  river,  from  which  cause 
the  river  thenceforth  bore  the  maiden's  name,  which 
by  length  of  time  is  now  changed  into  Sabrina  or 
Severn.  Milton  alludes  to  this  in  his  address  to  the 
rivers,  — 

"  Severn  swift,  guilty  of  maiden's  death  " ;  — 

and  in  his  "  Comus  "  tells  the  story  with  a  slight 
variation,  thus :  — 

"  There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream  j 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure  : 
Whilom  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father,  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  step-dame,  Guendolen, 
Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood, 
That  stayed  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course. 
The  water-nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  played, 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall. 
Who,  piteous  of  her  woes,  reared  her  lank  head, 
And  gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  imbathc 
In  nectared  lavers  strewed  with  asphodel, 
And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense 
Dropped  in  ambrosial  oils  till  she  revived. 
And  underwent  a  quick,  immortal  change. 
Made  goddess  of  the  river,"  &c. 

If  our  readers  ask  when  all  this  took  place,  we 
must  answer,  in  the  first  place,  that  mythology  is 
not  careful  of  dates  ;  and  next,  that,  as  Brutus  was 
the  great-grandson  of  ^neas,  it  must  have  been  not 
far  from  a  century  subsequent  to  the  Trojan  war,  or 
about  1100  years  before  the  invasion  of  the  island 


40  KING    ARTHUR    AND    UIS    KNIGHTS. 

by  Julius  Caesar.  This  long  interval  is  filled  with 
the  names  of  princes  whose  chief  occupation  was  hi 
warring  with  one  another.  Some  few,  whose  names 
remain  connected  with  places,  or  embalmed  in  liter- 
ature, we  will  mention. 

BLADUD. 

Bladud  built  the  city  of  Bath,  and  dedicated  the 
medicinal  waters  to  Minerva.  He  was  a  man  of 
great  invention,  and  practised  the  arts  of  magic,  till, 
having  made  him  wings  to  fly,  he  fell  down  upon 
the  temple  of  Apollo,  in  Ti'inovant,  and  so  died, 
after  twenty  years'  reign. 

LEIR. 

Leir,  who  next  reigned,  built  Leicester,  and  called 
it  after  his  name.  He  had  no  male  issue,  but  only 
three  daughters.  "When  grown  old,  he  determined 
to  divide  his  kingdom  among  his  daughters,  and 
bestow  them  in  marriage.  But  first,  to  try  which 
of  them  loved  him  best,  he  determined  to  ask  them 
solemnly  in  order,  and  judge  of  the  warmth  of  their 
affection  by  their  answers.  Goneril,  the  eldest, 
knowing  well  her  father's  weakness,  made  answer 
that  she  loved  him  "  above  her  soul."  "  Since  thou 
so  honorest  my  declining  age,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  to  thee  and  to  thy  husband  I  give  the  third  part 
of  my  realm."     Such  good  success  for  a  few  words 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  41 

soon  uttered  was  ample  instruction  to  Regan,  the 
second  daughter,  what  to  say.  She  therefore  to  the 
same  question  replied,  that  "  3he  loved  him  more 
than  all  the  world  beside  " ;  and  so  received  an 
equal  reward  with  her  sister.  But  Cordeilla,  the 
youngest,  and  hitherto  the  best  beloved,  though 
having  before  her  eyes  the  reward  of  a  little  easy 
soothing,  and  the  loss  likely  to  attend  plain-dealing, 
yet  was  not  moved  from  the  solid  purpose  of  a  sin- 
cere and  virtuous  answer,  and  replied :  "  Father, 
my  love  towards  you  is  as  my  duty  bids.  They 
who  pretend  beyond  this  flatter."  When  the  old 
man,  sorry  to  hear  this,  and  wishing  her  to  recall 
these  words,  persisted  in  asking,  she  still  restrained 
her  expressions  so  as  to  say  rather  less  than  more 
than  the  truth.  Then  Leir,  all  in  a  passion,  burst 
forth :  "  Since  thou  hast  not  reverenced  thy  aged 
father  like  thy  sisters,  think  not  to  have  any  part  in 
my  kingdom  or  Avhat  else  I  have"  ;  —  and  without 
delay,  giving  in  marriage  his  other  daughters,  Gon- 
eril  to  the  Duke  of  Albany,  and  Regan  to  the  Duke 
of  Cornwall,  he  divides  his  kingdom  between  them, 
and  goes  to  reside  with  his  eldest  daughter,  attended 
only  by  a  hundred  knights.  Bvit  in  a  short  time  his 
attendants,  being  complained  of  as  too  numerous 
and  disorderly,  are  reduced  to  thirty.  Resenting 
that  affront,  the  old  king  betakes  him  to  his  second 
daughter ;  but  she,  instead  of  soothing  his  wounded 
pride,  takes  part  with  her  sister,  and  refuses  to 
admit  a  retinue  of  more  than  five.     Then  back  he 

4* 


lt%  KINa   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

returns  to  the  other,  who  now  will  not  receive  him 
with  more  than  one  attendant.  Then  the  remem- 
brance of  Cordeilla  comes  to  his  thoughts,  and  he 
takes  his  journey  into  France  to  seek  her,  with  little 
hope  of  kind  consideration  from  one  whom  ^e  had 
so  injured,  but  to  pay  her  the  last  recompense  he 
can  render,  —  confession  of  his  injustice.  When 
Cordeilla  is  informed  of  his  approach,  and  of  his  sad 
^pondition,  she  pours  forth  true  filial  tears.  And, 
not  willing  that  her  own  or  others'  eyes  should 
see  him  in  that  forlorn  condition,  she  sends  one  of 
her  trusted  servants  to  meet  him,  and  convey  him 
privately  to  some  comfortable  abode,  and  to  furnish 
him  with  such  state  as  befitted  his  dignity.  After 
which  Cordeilla,  with  the  king  her  husband,  went 
in  state  to  meet  him,  and,  after  an  honorable  recep- 
tion, the  king  permitted  his  wife  Cordeilla  to  go 
with  an  army  and  set  her  father  again  upon  his 
throne.  They  prospered,  subdued  the  wicked  sis- 
ters and  their  consorts,  and  Leir  obtained  the  crown 
and  held  it  three  years.  Cordeilla  succeeded  him, 
and  reigned  five  years  ;  but  the  sons  of  her  sisters, 
after  that,  rebelled  against  her,  and  she  lost  both 
her  crown  and  life. 

Shakespeare  has  chosen  this  story  as  the  subject 
of  his  tragedy  of  King  Lear,  varying  its  details  in 
some  respects  The  madness  of  Lear,  and  the  ill 
success  of  Cordeilla's  attempt  to  reinstate  her  father, 
are  the  principal  variations,  and  those  in  the  names 
will  also  be  noticed.     Our  narrative  is  drawn  from 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF   ENGLAND.  43 

Milton's  History ;  and  thus  the  reader  will  perceive 
that  the  story  of  Leir  has  had  the  distinguished 
honor  of  being  told  by  the  two  acknowledged  chiefs 
of  British  literature. 

FERREX   AND    PORREX. 

Ferrex  and  Porrex  were  brothers,  who  held  the 
kingdom  after  Leir.  They  quarrelled  about  the 
supremacy,  and  Porrex  expelled  his  brother,  who, 
obtaining  aid  from  Suard,  king  of  the  Franks,  re- 
turned and  made  war  upon  Porrex.  Ferrex  was 
slain  in  battle,  and  his  forces  dispersed.  When 
their  mother  came  to  hear  of  her  son's  death,  who 
was  her  favorite,  she  fell  into  a  great  rage,  and  con- 
ceived a  mortal  hatred  against  the  survivor.  She 
took,  therefore,  her  opportunity  when  he  was  asleep, 
fell  upon  him,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  her  wo- 
men, tore  him  in  pieces.  This  horrid  story  would 
not  be  worth  relating,  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that 
it  has  furnished  the  plot  for  the  first  tragedy  which 
was  written  in  the  English  language.  It  was  en- 
titled Gorboduc,  but  in  the  second  edition  Ferrex 
and  Porrex,  and  was  the  production  of  Thomas  Sack- 
ville,  afterwards  Earl  of  Dorset,  and  Thomas  Nor- 
ton, a  barrister.     Its  date  was  1561. 

DUNWALLO   MOLMUTIUS. 

This  is  the  next  name  of  note.     Molmutius  es- 
tablished the  Molmutine  laws,  which  bestowed  the 


44  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

privilege  of  sanctuary  on  temples,  cities,  and  the 
roads  leading  to  them,  and  gave  the  same  protec- 
tion to  ploughs,  extending  a  religious  sanction  to 
the  labors  of  the  field.  Shakespeare  alludes  to  him 
in  Cymbeline,  Act  III.  Sc.  I. :  — 

"  Molmutius  made  our  laws  ; 
Who  was  the  first  of  Britain  which  did  put 
His  brows  within  a  golden  crown,  and  called 
Himself  a  king." 


BRENNUS   AND    BELINUS, 

the  sons  of  Molmutius,  succeeded  him.  They  quar- 
relled, and  Brennus  was  driven  out  of  the  island, 
and  took  refuge  in  Gaul,  where  he  met  with  such 
favor  from  the  king  of  the  AUobroges,  that  he  gave 
him  his  daughter  in  marriage,  and  made  him  his 
partner  on  the  throne.  Brennus  is  the  name  which 
the  Roman  historians  give  to  the  famous  leader  of 
the  Gauls  who  took  Rome  in  the  time  of  Camillus. 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  claims  the  glory  of  the  con- 
quest for  the  British  prince,  after  he  had  become 
king  of  the  iUlobroges. 

ELIDURE. 

After  Belinus  and  Brennus  there  reigned  several 
kings  of  little  note,  and  then  came  Elidure.  Artli- 
gallo,  his  brother,  being  king,  gave  great  offence  to 
his  powerful  nobles,  who  rose  against  him,  deposed 


THE    MYTHICAL    HISTORY    OF    ENGLAND.  45 

him,  and  advanced  Elidiire  to  the  throne.  Arthgallo 
fled,  and  endeavored  to  find  assistance  in  the  neigh- 
boring kingdoms  to  reinstate  him,  but  found  none. 
Elidure  reigned  prosperously  and  wisely.  After  five 
years'  possession  of  the  kingdom,  one  day,  when 
hunting,  he  met  in  the  forest  his  brother,  Arthgallo, 
who  had  been  deposed.  After  long  wandering,  un- 
able longer  to  bear  the  poverty  to  which  he  was 
reduced,  he  had  returned  to  Britain,  with  only  ten 
followers,  designing  to  repair  to  those  w^lio  had  for- 
merly been  his  friends.  Elidure,  at  the  sight  of  his 
brother  in  distress,  forgetting  all  animosities,  ran  to 
him,  and  embraced  him.  He  took  Arthgallo  home 
with  him,  and  concealed  him  in  the  palace.  After 
this  he  feigned  himself  sick,  and,  calling  his  nobles 
about  him,  induced  them,  partly  by  persuasion, 
partly  by  force,  to  consent  to  his  abdicating  the 
kingdom,  and  reinstating  his  brother  on  the  throne. 
The  agreement  being  ratified,  Elidure  took  the 
crown  from  his  own  head,  and  put  it  on  his  broth- 
er's head.  Arthgallo  after  this  reigned  ten  years, 
well  and  wisely,  exercising  strict  justice  towards  all 
men. 

He  died,  and  left  the  kingdom  to  his  sons,  who 
reigned  with  various  fortunes,  but  were  not  long- 
lived,  and  left  no  offspring,  so  that  Elidure  was 
again  advanced  to  the  throne,  and  finished  the 
course  of  his  life  in  just  and  virtuous  actions,  re- 
ceiving the  name  of  the  pious ^  from  the  love  and 
admiration  of  his  subjects. 


4G  KING    AKTHUH    AND    HIS    KNIOIITS. 

Wordsworth  has  taken  the  story  of  Artegal  and 
Elidure  for  the  subject  of  a  poem,  which  is  No.  2 
of  ''  Poems  founded  on  the  Affections." 


LUD. 

After  Elidure,  the  Chronicle  names  many  kings, 
but  none  of  special  note,  till  we  come  to  Lud,  who 
greatly  enlarged  Trinovant,  his  capital,  and  sur- 
rounded it  wdth  a  wall.  He  changed  its  name,  be- 
stowing upon  it  his  own,  so  that  thenceforth  it 
was  called  Lud's  town,  afterwards  London.  Lud 
was  buried  by  the  gate  of  the  city  called  after  him 
Ludgate.  He  had  two  sons,  but  they  were  not  old 
enough  at  the  time  of  their  father's  death  to  sustain 
the  cares  of  government,  and  therefore  their  uncle 
Caswallaun,  or  Cassibellaunus,  succeeded  to  the 
kingdom.  He  was  a  brave  and  magnificent  prince, 
so  that  his  fame  reached  to  distant  countries. 


CASSIBELLAUNUS. 

About  this  time  it  happened  (as  is  found  in  tho 
Roman  histories)  that  Julius  Caesar,  having  sub- 
dued Gaul,  came  to  the  shore  opposite  Britain. 
And  having  resolved  to  add  this  island  also  to  his 
conquests,  he  prepared  ships  and  transported  his 
army  across  the  sea,  to  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Tliames.  Here  he  was  met  by  Cassibellaun,  with 
all  liis  forces,  and  a  battle  ensued,  in  which  Xennius, 


TlIK    MYTHICAL    IIISTOKY    OF    KXGLAND.  47 


the  brother  of  Cassibellaun,  engaged  in  single  com- 
bat with  Csesar.  After  several  furious  blows  given 
and  received,  the  sword  of  Csesar  stuck  so  fast  in 
the  shield  of  Nennius,  that  it  could  not  be  pulled 
out,  and,  the  combatants  being  separated  by  the 
intervention  of  the  troops,  Nennius  remained  pos- 
sessed of  this  trophy.  At  last,  after  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  was  spent,  the  Britons  poured  in  so 
fast  that  Caesar  was  forced  to  retire  to  his  camp  and 
fleet.  And  finding  it  useless  to  continue  the  war 
any  longer  at  that  time,  he  returned  to  Gaul. 

Shakespeare  alludes  to  Cassibellaunus,  in  Cymbe- 
line  :  — 

"  The  famed  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point 
(O  giglot  fortune !)  to  master  Caesar's  sword, 
Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing  fires  bright, 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage/* 

KYMBELINUS,    OR    CYMBELINE. 

Caesar,  on  a  second  invasion  of  the  island,  was 
more  fortunate,  and  compelled  the  Britons  to  pay 
tribute.  Cymbeline,  the  nephew  of  the  king,  was 
delivered  to  the  Romans  as  a  hostage  for  the  faith- 
ful fulfilment  of  the  treaty,  and,  being  carried  to 
Rome  by  Caesar,  he  was  there  brought  up  in  the  Ro- 
man arts  and  accomplishments.  Being  afterwards 
restored  to  his  country,  and  placed  on  the  throne,  he 
was  attached  to  the  Romans,  and  continued  through 
all  his  reign  at  peace  with  them.  His  sons,  Guide- 
rius  and  Arviragus,  who  make  their  appearance  in 


48  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Shakespeare's  play  of  Cymbeliiie,  succeeded  their 
father,  and,  refusing  to  pay  tribute  to  the  Romans, 
brought  on  another  invasion.  Guiderius  was  slain, 
but  Arviragus  afterward  made  terms  with  the  Ro- 
mans, and  reigned  prosperously  many  years. 

ARMORICA. 

The  next  event  of  note  is  the  conquest  and  colo- 
nization of  Armorica,  by  Maximus,  a  Roman  general, 
and  Conan,  lord  of  Miniadoc  or  Denbigli-land,  in 
Wales.  The  name  of  the  country  was  changed  to 
Brittany,  or  Lesser  Britain  ;  and  so  completely  was  it 
possessed  by  the  British  colonists,  that  the  language 
became  assimilated  to  that  spoken  in  Wales,  and  it  is 
said  that  to  this  day  the  peasantry  of  the  two  coun- 
tries, can  understand  each  other  when  speaking  their 
native  language. 

The  Romans  eventually  succeeded  in  establishing 
themselves  in  the  island,  and  after  the  lapse  of  sev- 
eral generations  they  became  blended  with  the  na- 
tives so  that  no  distinction  existed  between  the  two 
races.  When  at  length  the  Roman  armies  were 
withdrawn  from  Britain,  their  departure  was  a  mat- 
ter of  regret  to  the  inhabitants,  as  it  left  them  with- 
out protection  against  tlio  barbarous  tribes,  Scots, 
Picts,  and  Xorwegians,  who  harassed  the  country 
incessantly.  This  was  the  state  of  things  when  the 
era  of  King  Arthur  began. 


THE    MYTHICAL    IIISTOKY    OF    ENGLAND.  49 

The  adventure  of  Albion,  the  giant,  with  Hercu- 
les is  alluded  to  by  Spenser,  Faery  Queene,  Book 
lY,  Canto  xi. :  — 

"  For  Albion  the  son  of  Neptune  was  ; 
Who  for  the  proof  of  his  great  puissance, 
Out  of  his  Albion  did  on  dry  foot  pass 
Into  old  Gaul  that  now  is  cleped  Trance, 
To  fight  with  Hercules,  that  did  advance 
To  vanquish  all  the  world  witii  matchless  might ; 
And  there  his  mortal  part  by  great  mischance 
Was  slain." 


CHAPTER    III. 


MERLIN. 


Merlin  was  the  son  of  no  mortal  father,  but  of 
an  Incubus,  one  of  a  class  of  beings  not  absolutely 
wicked,  but  far  from  good,  who  inhabit  the  regions 
of  the  air.  Merlin's  mother  was  a  virtuous  young 
woman,  who,  on  the  birth  of  her  son,  intrusted  him 
to  a  priest,  who  hurried  him  to  the  baptismal  fount, 
and  so  saved  him  from  sharing  the  lot  of  his  father, 
though  he  retained  many  marks  of  his  unearthly 
origin. 

At  this  time  Yortigern  reigned  in  Britain.  He 
was  a  usurper,  who  had  caused  the  death  of  his 
sovereign,  Moines,  and  driven  the  two  brothers  of 
the  late  king,  whose  names  were  Uther  and  Pen- 
dragon,  into  banishment.  Vortigern,  who  lived  in 
constant  fear  of  the  return  of  the  rightful  heirs  of 
the  kingdom,  began  to  erect  a  strong  tower  for  de- 
fence. The  edifice,  when  brought  by  the  workmen 
to  a  certain  height,  thi^e  times  fell  to  the  ground, 
without  any  apparent  cause.  The  king  consulted 
his  astrologers  on  this  wonderful  event,  and  learned 


MERLIN.  51 

from  them  that  it  would  be  necessary  to  bathe  the 
corner-stone  of  the  foundation  with  the  blood  of  a 
child  born  without  a  mortal  father. 

In  search  of  such  an  infant,  Vortigern  sent  his 
messengers  all  over  the  kingdom,  and  they  l)y  acci- 
dent discovered  Merlin,  whose  lineage  seemed  to 
point  him  out  as  the  individual  wanted.  They  took 
him  to  the  king ;  but  Merlin,  young  as  he  was,  ex- 
plained to  the  king  the  absurdity  of  attempting  to 
rescue  the  fabric  by  such  means,  for  he  told  him  the 
true  cause  of  the  instability  of  the  tower  was  its 
being  placed  over  the  den  of  two  immense  dragons, 
whose  combats  shook  the  earth  above  them.  Tlio 
king  ordered  his  workmen  to  dig  beneath  the  tower, 
and  when  they  had  done  so  they  discovered  two 
enormous  serpents,  the  one  white  as  milk,  the  other 
red  as  fire.  The  multitude  looked  on  with  amaze- 
ment, till  the  serpents,  slowly  rising  from  their  den, 
and  expanding  their  enormous  folds,  began  the  com- 
bat, when  every  one  fled  in  terror,  except  Merlin, 
who  stood  by  clapping  his  hands  and  cheering  on 
the  conflict.  The  red  dragon  was  slain,  and  the 
wliite  one,  gliding  through  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  dis- 
appeared. 

These  animals  typified,  as  Merlin  afterwards  ex- 
plained, the  invasion  of  Uther  and  Pendragon,  the 
rightful  princes,  who  soon  after  landed  with  a  great 
army.  Vortigern  was  defeated,  and  afterwards 
burned  alive  in  the  castle  he  had  taken  such  pains 
to  construct.    On  the  death  of  Yortigern,  Pendragon 


52  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

ascended  the  throne.  Merlin  becaftie  his  chief  ad- 
viser, and  often  assisted  the  king  by  his  magical 
arts.  Among  other  endowments,  he  had  the  power 
of  transforming  himself  into  any  shape  he  pleased. 
At  one  time  he  appeared  as  a  dwarf,  at  others  as 
a  damsel,  a  page,  or  even  a  greyhound  or  a  stag. 
This  faculty  he  often  employed  for  the  service  of 
the  king,  and  sometimes  also  for  the  diversion  of 
the  court  and  the  sovereign. 

Merlin  contimied  to  be  a  favorite  counsellor 
through  the  reigns  of  Pendragon,  Uther,  and  Ar- 
thur, and  at  last  disappeared  from  view,  and  was 
no  more  found  among  men,  through  the  treachery 
of  his  mistress,  Yiviane,  the  Fairy,  which  happened 
in  this  wise. 

Merlin,  having  become  enamored  of  the  fair  Vivi- 
ane,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  was  weak  enough  to 
impart  to  her  various  important  secrets  of  his  art, 
being  impelled  by  a  fatal  destiny,  of  which  he  w^as 
at  the  same  time  fully  aware.  The  lady,  however, 
was  not  content  with  his  devotion,  unbounded  as  it 
seems  to  have  been,  but  "  cast  about,"  the  Romance 
tells  us,  how  she  might  "  detain  him  for  evermore," 
and  one  day  addressed  him  in  these  terms  :  "  Sir,  I 
would  that  we  should  make  a  fair  place  and  a  suit- 
able, so  contrived  by  art  and  by  cunning  that  it 
might  never  be  undone,  and  that  you  and  I  should 
be  there  in  joy  and  solace."  "  My  lady,"  said  Mer- 
lin, "  I  will  do  all  this."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  1  would 
not  have  you  do  it,  but  you  shall  teach  me,  and  I 


53 


will  do  it,  and  then  it  will  be  more  to  my  mind." 
''  I  grant  you  this,"  said  Merlin.  Then  he  began 
to  devise,  and  the  damsel  put  it  all  in  writing. 
And  when  he  had  devised  the  wliole,  then  had  the 
damsel  full  great  joy,  and  showed  him  greater  sem- 
blance of  love  than  she  had  ever  before  made,  and 
they  sojourned  together  a  long  while.  At  length  it 
fell  out  that,  as  they  were  going  one  day  hand  in 
hand  through  the  forest  of  Breceliande,  they  found 
a  bush  of  white-thorn,  which  was  laden  with  flowers ; 
and  they  seated  themselves,  under  the  shade  of  this 
white-thorn,  upon  the  green  grass,  and  Merlin  laid 
his  head  upon  the  damsel's  lap,  and  fell  asleep. 
Then  the  damsel  rose,  and  made  a  ring  with  her 
wimple  round  the  bush,  and  round  Merlin,  and 
began  her  enchantments,  such  as  he  himself  had 
taught  her ;  and  nine  times  she  made  the  ring,  and 
nine  times  she  made  the  enchantment,  and  then  she 
went  and  sat  down  by  him,  and  placed  his  head 
again  upon  her  lap.  And  when  he  awoke,  and 
looked  round  him,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
enclosed  in  the  strongest  tower  in  the  world,  and 
laid  upon  a  fair  bed.  Then  said  he  to  the  dame  r 
"  My  lady,  you  have  deceived  me,  unless  you  abide 
with  me,  for  no  one  hath  power  to  unmake  this  tower 
but  you  alone."  She  then  promised  she  would  be 
often  there,  and  in  this  she  held  her  covenant  with 
him.  And  Merlin  never  went  out  of  that  tower 
where  his  Mistress  Viviane  had  enclosed  him  ;  but 
she  entered  and  went  out  again  when  she  listed. 

5# 


54  KIXG   AKTHUK    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS, 

After  this  event  ilerliu  was  never  more  known  to 
hold  converse  with  any  mortal  but  Yiviane,  except 
on  one  occasion.  Arthur,  having  for  some  time 
missed  him  from  his  court,  sent  several  of  his 
knights  in  search  of  him,  and,  among  the  number. 
Sir  Gawain,  who  met  with  a  very  unpleasant  adven- 
ture while  engaged  in  this  quest.  Happening  to 
pass  a  damsel  on  his  road,  and  neglecting  to  salute 
her,  she  revenged  herself  for  his  incivility  by  trans- 
forming him  into  a  hideous  dwarf.  He  was  bewail- 
ing aloud  his  evil  fortune  as  he  went  through  the 
forest  of  Breceliande,  when  suddenly  he  heard  the 
voice  of  one  groaning  on  his  right  hand ;  and,  look- 
ing that  way,  he  could  see  nothing  save  a  kind  of 
smoke,  which  seemed  like  air,  and  through  which 
he  could  not  pass.  Merlin  then  addressed  him  from 
out  the  smoke,  and  told  him  by  what  misadventure 
he  was  imprisoned  there.  "  Ah,  Sir  !  "  he  added, 
^^  you  will  never  see  me  more,  and  that  grieves  me, 
but  I  cannot  remedy  it ;  I  shall  never  more  speak  to 
you,  nor  to  any  other  person,  save  only  my  mistress. 
But  do  thou  hasten  to  King  Arthur,  and  charge 
him  from  me  to  undertake,  without  delay,  the  quest 
of  the  Sacred  Graal.  The  knight  is  already  born, 
and  has  received  knighthood  at  his  hands,  who  is 
destined  to  accomplish  this  quest."  And  after  this 
he  comforted  Gawain  under  his  transformation,  as- 
suring him  that  he  should  speedily  be  disenchanted; 
and  he  predicted  to  him  that  he  should  find  the  king 
at  Carduel,  in  Wales,  on  his  return,  and  that  all  the 


MERLIN.  00 

other  knights  who  had  been  on  like  quest  would 
arrive  there  the  same  day  as  liimself.  And  all  this 
came  to  pass  as  Merlin  had  said. 

Merlin  is  frequently  introduced  in  the  tales  of 
chivalry,  but  it  is  chiefly  on  great  occasions,  and  at 
a  period  subsequent  to  his  death,  or  magical  disa|> 
pearance.  In  the  romantic  poems  of  Italy,  and  in 
Spenser,  Merlin  is  chiefly  represented  as  a  magical 
artist.  Spenser  represents  him  as  the  artificer  of 
the  impenetrable  shield  and  other  armor  of  Prince 
Arthur  (Faery  Queene,  Book  I.  Canto  vii.),  and  of 
a  mirror,  in  which  a  damsel  viewed  her  lover's  shade. 
The  Fountain  of  Love,  in  the  Orlando  Innamorato, 
is  described  as  his  work  ;  and  in  the  poem  of  Ari- 
osto  we  are  told  of  a  hall  adorned  with  prophetic 
paintings,  which  demons  had  executed  in  a  single 
night,  under  the  direction  of  Merlin. 

The  following  legend  is  from  Spenser's  Faery 
Queene  (Book  III.  Canto  iii.)  :  — 

CAER-MERDIN,    OR    CAERMARTHEN    (IN  WALES),    MERLIN'S    TOWER, 
AND    THE    IMPRISONED   FIENDS. 

Torthwith  themselves  disguising  both,  in  straungc 
And  base  attire,  that  none  might  them  bewray. 
To  Maridunum,  that  is  now  by  chaungc 
Of  name  Caer-Merdin  called,  they  took  their  way  : 
There  the  wise  Merlin  why  lorn  e  wont  (they  say) 
To  make  his  wonne,  low  undenieath  the  ground 
In  a  deep  delve,  far  from  the  view  of  day, 
That  of  no  living  wiglit  he  mote  be  found, 
Whenso  he  counselled  with  his  sprights  encompassed  round. 

And  if  thou  ever  happen  that  same  way 
To  travel,  go  to  see  that  dreadful  jilacc  ; 


56  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

It  is  a  hideous  hollow  cave  (they  say) 
Under  a  rock  that  lies  a  little  space 
From  the  swift  Barry,  tombling  down,  apace 
Amongst  the  woody  hills  of  Dynevor ; 
But  dare  not  thou,  I  charge,  in  any  case. 
To  enter  into  that  same  baleful  bower, 
For  fear  the  cruel  fiends  should  thee  unwares  devour. 

But  standing  high  aloft,  low  lay  thine  ear, 
And  there  such  ghastly  noise  of  iron  chains 
And  brazen  cauldrons  thou  shalt  rumbling  hear, 
Which  thousand  sprites  with  long  enduring  pains 
Do  toss,  that  it  will  stun  thy  feeble  brains  ; 
And  oftentimes  great  groans,  and  grievous  stounds, 
"When  too  huge  toil  and  labor  them  constrains  ; 
And  oftentimes  loud  strokes  and  ringing  sounds 
From  under  that  deep  rock  most  horribly  rebounds. 

The  cause  some  say  is  this.    A  little  while 
Before  that  Merlin  died,  he  did  intend 
A  brazen  wall  in  compas  to  compile 
About  Caermerdin,  and  did  it  commend 
TJnto  these  sprites  to  bring  to  perfect  end  ; 
During  which  work  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
Whom  long  he  loved,  for  him  in  haste  did  send ; 
Who,  thereby  forced  his  workmen  to  forsake, 
Them  bound  till  his  return  their  labor  not  to  slack. 

In  the  mean  time,  through  that  false  lady's  train. 
He  was  surprised,  and  buried  under  beare,* 
Ne  ever  to  his  work  returned  again ; 
Nathless  those  fiends  may  not  their  work  forbear, 
So  greatly  his  commandiiment  they  fear ; 
But  there  do  toil  and  travail  day  and  night. 
Until  that  brazen  wall  they  up  do  rear. 
For  Merlin  had  in  magic  more  insight 
Tlian  ever  him  before  or  after  living  wight. 

*  Buried  under  beare.     Buried  under  something  which  enclosed  him 
like  a  cofiiu  or  bier. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


ARTHUR. 


We  shall  begin  our  history  of  King  Arthur  by- 
giving  those  particulars  of  his  life  which  appear  to 
rest  on  historical  evidence  ;  and  then  proceed  to  re- 
cord those  legends  concerning  him  vrhicli  form  the 
earliest  portion  of  British  literature. 

Arthur  was  a  prince  of  the  tribe  of  Britons  called 
Silures,  whose  country  was  South  Wales,  —  the  son 
of  Uther,  named  Pendragon,  a  title  given  to  an 
elective  sovereign,  paramount  over  the  many  kings 
of  Britain.  He  appears  to  have  commenced  his 
martial  career  about  the  year  500,  and  was  raised 
to  the  Pendragonship  about  ten  years  later.  He  is 
said  to  have  gained  twelve  victories  over  the  Sax- 
ons. The  most  important  of  them  was  that  of  Ba- 
don,  by  some  supposed  to  be  Bath,  by  others  Berk- 
shire. This  was  the  last  of  his  battles  with  the  Sax- 
ons, and  checked  their  progress  so  effectually,  that 
Arthur  experienced  no  more  annoyance  from  them, 
and  reigned  in  peace,  until  the  revolt  of  his  nephew 
Modred,  twenty  years  later,  which  led  to  the  fatal 


58  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

battle  of  Camlan,  in  Cornwall,  in  542.  Modred  was 
slain,  and  Arthur,  mortally  wounded,  was  conveyed 
by  sea  to  Glastonbury,  where  he  died,  and  was 
buried.  Tradition  preserved  the  memory  of  the 
place  of  his  interment  within  the  abbey,  as  we  are 
told  by  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  who  was  present  when 
the  grave  was  opened  by  command  of  Henry  II. 
about  1150,  and  saw  the  bones  and  sword  of  the 
monarch,  and  a  leaden  cross  let  into  his  tombstone, 
with  the  inscription  in  rude  Roman  letters,  "  Here 
lies  buried  the  famous  King  Arthur,  in  the  island 
Avalonia."  This  story  has  been  elegantly  versified 
by  Warton.  A  popular  traditional  belief  was  long 
entertained  among  the  Britons,  that  Arthur  was  not 
dead,  but  had  been  carried  off  to  be  healed  of  his 
wounds  in  Fairy-land,  and  that  he  would  re-appear 
to  avenge  his  countrymen  and  reinstate  them  in  the 
sovereignty  of  Britain.  In  Warton' s  Ode  a  bard  re- 
lates to  King  Henry  the  traditional  story  of  Arthur's 
death,  and  closes  with  these  lines. 

"  Yet  in  vain  a  paynim  foe 
Armed  with  fate  the  mighty  blow ; 
For  when  he  fell,  the  Elfin  queen, 
All  in  secret  and  unseen, 
O'er  the  fainting  hero  threw 
Her  mantle  of  ambrosial  blue. 
And  bade  her  spirits  bear  hira  far. 
In  Merlin's  agate-axled  car, 
To  her  green  isle's  enamelled  steep, 
Far  in  the  navel  of  the  deep. 
O'er  his  wounds  she  sprinkled  dew 
From  flowers  that  in  Arabia  grew. 


ARTHUR.  59 

There  he  reigns  a  mighty  king. 
Thence  to  Britain  shall  return. 
If  right  prophetic  rolls  I  learn. 
Borne  on  victory's  spreading  plume. 
His  ancient  sceptre  to  resume. 
His  knightly  table  to  restore. 
And  brave  the  tournaments  of  yore." 

After  this  narration  another  bard  came  forward 
who  recited  a  different  story. 

"  When  Arthur  bowed  his  haughty  crest. 
No  princess  veiled  in  azure  vest 
Snatched  him,  by  Merlin's  powerful  spell, 
In  groves  of  golden  bliss  to  dwell ; 
But  when  he  fell,  with  winged  speed. 
His  champions,  on  a  milk-white  steed. 
Prom  the  battle's  hurricane, 
Bore  him  to  Joseph's  towered  fane,=* 
In  the  fair  vale  of  Avalon ; 
There,  with  chanted  orison 
And  the  long  blaze  of  tapers  clear. 
The  stoled  fathers  met  the  bier ; 
Through  the  dim  aisles,  in  order  dread 
Of  martial  woe,  the  chief  they  led, 
And  deep  entombed  in  holy  ground, 
Before  the  altar's  solemn  bound." 

It  must  not  be  concealed,  that  the  very  existence 

*  Glastonbury  Abbey,  said  to  be  founded  by  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thea,  in  a  spot  anciently  called  the  island  or  valley  of  Avalonia. 

Tennyson,  in  his  Palace  of  Art,  alludes  to  the  legend  of  Arthur's 
rescue  by  the  Fairy  queen,  thus  :  — 

"Or  mythic  Uther's  deeply  wounded  son. 
In  some  fair  space  of  sloping  greens. 
Lay  dozing  in  the  vale  of  Avalon, 
And  watched  by  weeping  queens." 


/  "BPQTwiw 


,\ 


GO  KING    ARTHUR    AND    1113    KNIGHTS. 

of  Arthur  has  been  denied  by  some.  Milton  says 
of  him :  "As  to  Arthur,  more  renowned  in  songs 
and  romances  than  in  true  stories,  who  he  was,  and 
whether  ever  any  such  reigned  in  Britain,  hath  been 
doubted  heretofore,  and  may  again,  with  good  rea- 
son." Modern  critics,  however,  admit  that  there 
was  a  prince  of  this  name,  and  find  proof  of  it  in 
the  frequent  mention  of  him  in  the  writings  of  the 
Welsh  bards.  But  the  Arthur  of  romance,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Owen,  a  Welsh  scholar  and  antiquarian, 
is  a  mythological  person.  "  Arthur,"  he  say^,  "  is 
the  Great  Bear,  as  the  name  literally  implies  (Arc- 
tos,  Arcturus),and  perhaps  this  constellation,  being 
so  near  the  pole,  and  visibly  describing  a  circle  in 
a  small  space,  is  the  origin  of  the  famous  Round 
Table." 

KING   ARTHUR. 

Constans,  king  of  Britain,  had  three  sons,  Moines, 
Ambrosius,  otherwise  called  TJther,  and  Pendragon. 
Moines,  soon  after  his  accession  to  the  crown,  was 
vanquished  by  the  Saxons,  in  consequence  of  the 
treachery  of  his  seneschal,  Vortigern,  and  growing 
unpopular,  through  misfortune,  he  was  killed  by  his 
subjects,  and  the  traitor  Vortigern  chosen  in  his 
place. 

Vortigern  was  soon  after  defeated  in  a  great  bat- 
tle by  Uther  and  Pendragon,  the  surviving  brothers 
of  Moines,  and  Pendragon  ascended  the  throne. 

This  prince  had  great  confidence  in  the  wisdom 


ARTHUR.  61 

of  Merlin,  and  made  him  his  chief  adviser.  About 
this  time  a  dreadful  war  arose  between  the  Saxons 
and  Britons.  Merlin  obliged  the  royal  brothers  to 
swear  fidelity  to  each  other,  but  predicted  that  one 
of  them  must  fall  in  the  first  battle.  The  Saxons 
were  routed,  and  Pendragon,  being  slain,  was  suc- 
ceeded by  Uther,  who  now  assumed  in  addition  to 
his  own  name  the  appellation  of  Pendragon. 

Merlin  still  continued  a  favorite  counsellor.  At 
the  request  of  Uther,  he  transported  by  magic  art 
enormous  stones  from  Ireland,  to  form  the  sepulchre 
of  Pendragon.  These  stones  constitute  the  monu- 
ment now  called  Stonehenge,  on  Salisbury  plain. 

Merlhi  next  proceeded  to  Carlisle  to  prepare  the 
Round  Table,  at  which  he  seated  an  assemblage  of 
the  great  nobles  of  the  country.  The  companions 
admitted  to  this  high  order  were  bound  by  oath  to 
assist  each  other  at  the  hazard  of  their  own  lives,  to 
attempt  singly  the  most  perilous  adventures,  to  lead, 
when  necessary,  a  life  of  monastic  solitude,  to  fly  to 
arms  at  the  first  summons,  and  never  to  retire  from 
battle  till  they  had  defeated  the  enemy,  unless  night 
intervened  and  separated  the  combatants. 

Soon  after  this  institution,  the  king  invited  all  his 
barons  to  the  celebration  of  a  great  festival,  which 
he  proposed  holding  annually  at  Carlisle. 

As  the  knights  had  obtained  the  sovereign's  per- 
mission to  bring  their  ladies  along  with  them,  the 
beautiful  Igerne  accompanied  her  husband,  Gorlois, 
Duke  of  Tintadicl,  to  one  of  these  anniversaries. 

G 


G2  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

The  king  became  deeply  enamored  of  the  Duchess, 
and  disclosed  his  passion ;  but  Igerne  repelled  his 
advances,  and  revealed  his  solicitations  to  her  hus- 
band. On  hearing  this,  the  Duke  instantly  removed 
from  court  with  Igerne,  and  without  taking  leave 
of  Uther.  The  king  complained  to  his  council  of 
this  want  of  duty,  and  they  decided  that  the  Duke 
should  be  summoned  to  court,  and,  if  refractory, 
should  be  treated  as  a  rebel.  As  he  refused  to  obey 
the  citation,  the  king  carried  war  into  the  estates  of 
liis  vassal,  and  besieged  him  in  the  strong  castle  of 
Tintadiel.  Merlin  transformed  the  king  into  the 
likeness  of  Gorlois,  and  enabled  him  to  have  many 
stolen  interviews  with  Igerne.  At  length  the  Duke 
was  killed  in  battle,  and  the  king  espoused  Igerne. 

From  this  union  sprang  Arthur,  who  succeeded 
liis  father,  Uther,  upon  the  throne. 

ARTHUR    CHOSEN   KING. 

Arthur,  though  only  fifteen  years  old  at  his  fa- 
ther's death,  was  elected  king,  at  a  general  meeting 
of  the  nobles.  It  was  not  done  without  opposition, 
for  there  were  many  ambitious  competitors ;  but 
Bishop  Brice,  a  person  of  great  sanctity,  on  Christ- 
mas eve  addressed  the  assembly,  and  represented 
that  it  would  well  become  them,  at  that  solemn  sea- 
son, to  put  up  their  prayers  for  some  token  which 
should  manifest  the  intentions  of  Providence  re- 
specting their  future   sovereign.     This  was   done, 


ARTHUR.  C3 

and  with  such  success,  that  the  service  was  scarcely 
ended,  when  a  miraculous  stone  was  discovered,  be- 
fore the  church  door,  and  in  the  stone  was  firmlj 
fixed  a  sword,  with  the  following  words  engraven  on 
its  hilt :  — 

"  I  am  hight  Escaliborc, 
Unto  a  king  fair  trcsorc/' 

Bishop  Brice,  after  exhorting  the  assembly  to  offer 
up  their  thanksgivings  for  this  signal  miracle,  pro- 
posed a  law,  that  whoever  should  be  able  to  draw 
out  the  sword  from  the  stone,  should  be  acknowl- 
edged as  sovereign  of  the  Britons ;  and  his  proposal 
was  decreed  by  general  acclamation.  The  tributary 
kings  of  Uther,  and  the  most  famous  knights  suc- 
cessively put  their  strength  to  the  proof,  but  the  mi- 
raculous sword  resisted  all  their  efforts.  It  stood 
till  Candlemas ;  it  stood  till  Easter,  and  till  Pente- 
cost, when  the  best  knights  in  the  kingdom  usually 
assembled  for  the  annual  tournament.  Arthur,  who 
wa^at  that  time  serving  in  the  capacity  of  squire  to 
his  foster-brother.  Sir  Kay,  attended  his  master  to 
the  lists.  Sir  Kay  fought  with  great  valor  and  suc- 
cess, but  had  the  misfortune  to  break  his  sword,  and 
sent  Arthur  to  his  mother  for  a  new  one.  Arthur 
hastened  home,  but  did  not  find  the  lady ;  but  hav- 
ing observed  near  tlie  churcli  a  sword,  sticking  in  a 
stone,  he  galloped  to  the  place,  drew  out  the  sword 
with  great  case,  and  delivered  it  to  his  master.  Sir 
Kay  would  willingly  have  assumed  to  himself  the 
distinction  conferred  by  the  possession  of  the  sword  ; 


64  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

but  when,  to  confirm  the  doubters,  the  sword  was  re- 
placed in  the  stone,  he  was  utterly  unable  to  with- 
draw it,  and  it  would  yield  a  second  time  to  no  hand 
but  Arthur's.  Thus  decisively  pointed  out  by 
Heaven  as  their  king,  Arthur  was  by  general  con- 
sent, proclaimed  as  such,  and  an  early  day  ap- 
pointed for  his  soleimi  coronation. 

Immediately  after  his  election  to  the  crown,  Ar- 
thur found  himself  opposed  by  eleven  kings  and  one 
duke,  who  with  a  vast  army  were  actually  encamped 
in  the  forest  of  Rockingham.  By  Merlin's  advice 
Arthur  sent  an  embassy  to  Brittany,  to  solicit  the 
aid  of  King  Ban  and  King  Bohort,  two  of  the  best 
knights  in  the  world.  They  accepted  the  call,  and 
with  a  powerful  army  crossed  the  sea,  landing  at 
Portsmouth,  where  they  were  received  witli  great 
rejoicing.  The  rebel  kings  were  still  superior  in 
numbers ;  but  Merlin,  by  a  powerful  enchantment, 
caused  all  their  tents  to  fall  down  at  once,  and  in 
tlie  confusion  Arthur  with  his  allies  fell  upon  tfiem 
and  totally  routed  them. 

After  defeating  the  rebels,  Arthur  took  the  field 
against  the  Saxons.  As  they  were  too  strong  for 
him  unaided,  he  sent  an  embassy  to  Armorica,  be- 
seeching the  assistance  of  Hoel,  who  soon  after 
brought  over  an  army  to  his  aid.  The  two  kings 
joined  their  forces,  and  sought  the  enemy,  whom 
they  met,  and  both  sides  prepared  for  a  decisive  en- 
gagement. "  Arthur  himself,"  as  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth relates,  "  dressed  in  a  breastplate  worthy  of 


AKTIIUK.  65 

SO  great  a  king,  places  on  liis  head  a  golden  helmet  ■ 
engraved  with  the  semblance  of  a  dragon.  Over  his 
shoulders  he  throws  his  shield  called  Priwen,  on 
which  a  picture  of  the  Holy  Virgin  constantly  re- 
called her  to  his  memory.  Girt  with  Caliburn,  a 
most  excellent  sword,  and  fabricated  in  the  isle  of 
Avalon,  he  graces  his  right  hand  with  the  lance  named 
Ron.  This  was  a  long  and  broad  spear,  well  con- 
trived for  slaughter."  After  a  severe  conflict,  Ar- 
thur, calling  on  the  name  of  the  Virgin,  rushes  into 
the  midst  of  his  enemies,  and  destroys  multitudes 
of  them  with  the  formidable  Caliburn,  and  puts  the 
rest  to  flight.  Iloel,  being  detained  by  sickness, 
took  no  part  in  this  battle. 

This  is  called  the  victory  of  Moimt  Badon,  and, 
however  disguised  by  fable,  it  is  regarded  by  histo- 
rians as  a  real  event. 

The  feats  performed  by  Arthur  at  the  battle  of 
Badon  Mount  are  thus  celebrated  in  Drayton's 
verse :  — 

"  They  sung  how  he  himself  at  Badon  horc,  that  day, 
When  at  the  glorious  goal  his  British  scepter  lay ; 
Two  dales  together  how  the  battel  stronglie  stood ; 
Pcndragon's  worthie  son,  who  waded  there  in  blood, 
Three  hundred  Saxons  slew  with  his  owne  valiant  hand." 

Song  IV. 

GUENEVER. 

Merlin  had  planned  for  Arthur  a  marriage  with 
the  daughter  of  King  Laodcgan  of  Carmalide.  By 
his  advice  Arthur  paid  a  visit  to  the  court  of  that 


66  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

sovereign,  attended  only  by  ]\rerlui  and  by  thirty- 
]iine  knights  whom  the  magician  had  selected  for 
that  service.  On  their  arrival  they  found  Laodegan 
and  his  peers  sitting  in  council,  endeavoring,  but 
with  small  prospect  of  success,  to  devise  means  of 
resisting  the  impending  attack  of  Ryence,  king  of 
Ireland,  who,  with  fifteen  tributary  kings  and  an 
almost  inmimerable  army,  had  nearly  surrounded 
the  city.  Merlin,  who  acted  as  leader  of  the  band 
of  British  knights,  announced  them  as  strangers, 
who  came  to  offer  the  king  their  services  in  his 
wars ;  but  under  the  express  condition  that  they 
should  be  at  liberty  to  conceal  their  names  and 
quality  until  they  should  think  proper  to  divulge 
them.  These  terms  were  thought  very  strange,  but 
were  thankfully  accepted,  and  the  strangers,  after 
taking  the  usual  oath  to  the  king,  retired  to  the 
lodging  which  Merlin  had  prepared  for  them. 

A  few  days  after  this,  the  enemy,  regardless  of  a 
truce  into  which  they  had  entered  with  King  Laode- 
gan, suddenly  issued  from  their  camp  and  made  an 
attempt  to  surprise  the  city.  Cleodalis,  the  king's 
general,  assembled  the  royal  forces  with  all  possible 
despatch.  Arthur  and  his  companions  also  flew  to 
arms,  and  Merlin  appeared  at  their  head,  bearing  a 
standard  on  which  was  emblazoned  a  terrific  dragon. 
Merlin  advanced  to  the  gate,  and  commanded  the 
porter  to  open  it,  which  the  porter  refused  to  do, 
without  the  king's  order.  Merlin  thereupon  took 
up  the  gate,  with  all  its  appurtenances  of  locks,  bars, 


ARTHUR.  67 

bolts,  &c.,  and  directed  his  troop  to  pass  through, 
after  which  he  replaced  it  in  perfect  order.  He 
tlien  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  dashed,  at  the  head 
of  his  little  troop,  into  a  body  of  two  thousand  Pa- 
gans. The  disparity  of  numbers  being  so  enormous, 
Merlin  cast  a  spell  upon  the  enemy,  so  as  to  prevent 
their  seeing  the  small  number  of  their  assailants; 
notwithstanding  which  the  British  knights  were 
hard  pressed.  But  the  people  of  the  city,  who  saw 
from  the  walls  this  unequal  contest,  were  ashamed 
of  leaving  the  small  body  of  strangers  to  their  fate, 
so  they  opened  the  gate  and  sallied  forth.  The 
numbers  were  now  more  nearly  equal,  and  Merlin 
revoked  his  spell,  so  that  tlie  two  armies  encoun- 
tered on  fair  terms.  Where  Arthur,  Ban,  Bohort, 
and  the  rest  fought,  the  king's  army  had  the  advan- 
tage ;  but  in  another  part  of  the  field,  the  king  him- 
self was  surrounded  and  carried  off  by  the  enemy. 
This  sad  sight  was  seen  by  Guenever,  the  fair 
daughter  of  the  king,  who  stood  on  the  city  wall 
and  looked  at  the  battle.  She  was  in  dreadful  dis- 
tress, tore  her  hair,  and  swooned  away. 

But  Merlin,  aware  of  what  passed  in  every  part  of 
tlie  field,  suddenly  collected  his  knights,  led  them 
out  of  the  battle,  intercepted  the  passage  of  the  party 
who  were  carrying  away  the  king,  charged  them 
with  irresistible  impetuosity,  cut  in  pieces  or  dis- 
persed the  whole  escort,  and  rescued  the  king.  In 
the  fight  Arthur  encountered  Caulang,  a  giant  fif- 
teen feet  high,  and  the  fair  Giienever,  who  already 


68  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

began  to  feel  a  strong  interest  in  the  handsome 
young  stranger,  trembled  for  the  issue  of  the  con- 
test. But  Arthur,  dealing  a  dreadful  blow  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  monster,  cut  through  his  neck  so 
that  his  head  hung  over  on  one  side,  and  in  this 
condition  his  horse  carried  him  about  the  field,  to 
the  great  horror  and  dismay  of  the  Pagans.  Gue- 
never  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  aloud  her 
wish  that  the  gentle  knight,  who  dealt  with  giants 
so  dexterously,  were  destined  to  become  her  hus- 
band, and  the  wish  was  echoed  by  her  attendants. 
The  enemy  soon  turned  their  backs,  and  fled  with 
precipitation,  closely  pursued  by  Laodegan  and  his 
allies. 

After  the  battle  Arthur  was  disarmed  and  con- 
ducted to  the  bath  by  the  princess  Guenever,  wliile 
his  friends  were  attended  by  the  other  ladies  of  the 
court.  After  the  bath  the  knights  were  conducted 
to  a  magnificent  entertainment,  at  wliich  they  were 
diligently  served  by  the  same  fair  attendants.  La- 
odegan, more  and  more  anxious  to  know  the  name 
and  quality  of  his  generous  deliverers,  and  occasion- 
ally forming  a  secret  wish  that  tlie  chief  of  his  guests 
might  be  captivated  by  the  cliarms  of  his  daugliter, 
appeared  silent  and  pensive,  and  was  scarcely  roused 
from  his  reverie  by  the  banters  of  his  courtiers.  Ar- 
thur, having  had  an  opportunity  of  explaining  to 
Guenever  his  great  esteem  for  her  merit,  was  in  the 
joy  of  his  heart,  and  was  still  further  "delighted  by 
licaring  from  Merlin  the  late  exploits  of  Gawain  at 


I'Uiiv'iitiri 


^ 


ARTHUR.       ^j^«|,«^^g\^     69 

London,  by  means  of  which  his  immediate  return  to 
his  dominions  was  rendered  unnecessary,  and  he 
was  left  at  liberty  to  protract  his  stay  at  the  court 
of  Laodegan.  Every  day  contributed  to  increase 
the  admiration  of  the  whole  court  for  tlie  gallant 
strangers,  and  tlie  passion  of  Guenever  for  their 
chief;  and  when  at  last  Merlin  announced  to  the 
king  that  the  object  of  the  visit  of  the  party  was  to 
procure  a  bride  for  their  leader,  Laodegan  at  once 
presented  Guenever  to  Arthur,  telling  him  that, 
whatever  might  be  his  rank,  his  merit  was  sufficient 
to  entitle  him  to  the  possession  of  the  heiress  of  Car- 
malide.  Arthur  accepted  the  lady  with  the  utmost 
gratitude,  and  Merlin  then  proceeded  to  satisfy  the 
king  of  the  rank  of  his  son-in-law ;  upon  which  La- 
odegan, with  all  his  barons,  hastened  to  do  homage 
to  their  lawful  sovereign,  the  successor  of  Uther 
Pendragon.  The  fair  Guenever  was  then  solemnly 
betrothed  to  Arthur,  and  a  magnificent  festival  was 
proclaimed,  which  lasted  seven  days.  At  the  end 
of  that  time,  the  enemy  appearing  again  with  re- 
newed force,  it  became  necessary  to  resume  military 
operations.* 

We  must  now  relate  what  took  place  at  and  near 
London,  while  Arthur  was  absent  from  his  capital. 
At  this  very  time  a  band  of  young  heroes  were  on 

*  Guenever,  the  name  of  Arthur's  queen,  also  written  Genievre  and 
Gcneura,  is  familiar  to  all  who  are  conversant  with  cliivalric  lore.  It 
is  to  her  adventures,  and  those  of  her  true  knight,  Sir  Launcelot, 
that  Dante  alludes  in  the  beautiful  episode  of  Francesca  da  Kiniini. 


70  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

their  way  to  Arthur's  court,  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
ceiving knighthood  from  him.  They  were  Gawain 
and  his  three  brothers,  nephews  of  Arthur,  sons  of 
King  Lot,  and  Galachin,  another  nephew,  son  of 
King  Nanters.  King  Lot  had  been  one  of  the  rebel 
chiefs  whom  Arthur  had  defeated,  but  he  now  lioped 
by  means  of  the  young  men  to  be  reconciled  to 
his  bro*ther-in-law.  He  equipped  his  sons  and  his 
nepliew  with  the  utmost  magnificence,  giving  them 
a  splendid  retinue  of  young  men,  sons  of  earls  and 
barons,  all  mounted  on  the  best  horses,  with  com- 
plete suits  of  choice  armor.  They  numbered  in  all 
seven  hundred,  but  only  nine  had  yet  received  the 
order  of  knighthood ;  the  rest  were  candidates  for 
that  honor,  and  anxious  to  earn  it  by  an  early  en- 
counter with  the  enemy.  Gawain,  the  leader,  was 
a  knight  of  wonderful  strength  ;  but  what  was  most 
remarkable  about  him  was  that  his  strength  was 
greater  at  certain  hours  of  the  day  than  at  others. 
From  nine  o'clock  till  noon  his  strength  was  doubled, 
and  so  it  was  from  three  to  even-song  ;  for  the  rest  of 
the  time  it  was  less  remarkable,  though  at  all  times 
surpassing  that  of  ordinary  men. 

After  a  march  of  three  days  they  arrived  in  the 
vicinity  of  London,  where  they  expected  to  find  Ar- 
thur and  his  court ;  and  very  unexpectedly  fell  in 
with  a  large  convoy  belonging  to  the  enemy,  consist- 
ing of  numerous  carts  and  wagons,  all  loaded  with 
provisions,  and  escorted  by  three  thousand  men,  who 
had  been  collecting  spoil  from  all  the  country  round. 


ARTHUR.  71 

A  single  charge  from  Gawaiii's  impetuous  cavalry 
was  sufficient  to  disperse  the  escort  and  recover. the 
convoy,  which  was  instantly  despatched  to  London. 
But  before  long  a  body  of  seven  thousand  fresh  sol- 
diers advanced  to  the  attack  of  the  five  princes  and 
their  little  army.  Gawain,  singling  out  a  chief 
named  Choas,  of  gigantic  size,  began  the  battle  by 
splitting  him  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the 
breast.  Galachin  encountered  King  Sanagran,  who 
was  also  very  huge,  and  cut  off  his  head.  Agrivain 
and  Gahariet  also  performed  prodigies  of  valor. 
Thus  they  kept  the  great  army  of  assailants  at  bay, 
though  hard  pressed,  till  of  a  sudden  they  perceived 
a  strong  body  of  the  citizens  advancing  from  London, 
where  the  convoy  which  had  been  recovered  by  Ga- 
wain had  arrived,  and  informed  the  mayor  and  citi- 
zens of  the  danger  of  their  deliverer.  The  arrival 
of  the  Londoners  soon  decided  the  contest.  The 
enemy  fled  in  all  directions,  and  Gawain  and  his 
friends,  escorted  by  the  grateful  citizens,  entered 
London,  and  were  received  with  acclamations 


CHAPTER    V. 

AKTHUR. 

After  the  great  victory  of  Mount  Badon,  by  which 
the  Saxons  were  for  the  time  effectually  put  down, 
Arthur  turned  his  arms  against  the  Scots  and  Picts, 
whom  he  routed  at  Lake  Lomond,  and  compelled  to 
sue  for  mercy.  He  then  went  to  York  to  keep  his 
Christmas,  and  employed  himself  in  restoring  the 
Christian  churches  which  the  Pagans  had  rifled  and 
overthrown.  The  following  summer  he  conquered 
Ireland,  and  then  made  a  voyage  with  his  fleet  to 
Iceland,  which  he  also  subdued.  The  kings  of  Goth- 
land and  of  the  Orkneys  came  voluntarily  and  made 
their  submission,  promising  to  pay  tribute.  Then 
he  returned  to  Britain,  where,  having  established 
the  kingdom,  he  dwelt  twelve  years  in  peace. 

During  this  time  he  invited  over  to  him  all  per- 
sons whatsoever  that  were  famous  for  valor  in  for- 
eign nations,  and  augmented  the  number  of  his 
domestics,  and  introduced  such  politeness  into  his 
court  as  people  of  the  remotest  countries  thought 
worthy  of  tlieir  imitation.     So  that  tliere  was  not  a 


ARTHUR.  73 

nobleman  who  thought  himself  of  any  consideration 
unless  his  clothes  and  arms  were  made  in  the  same 
fashion  as  those  of  Arthur's  knights. 

Finding  himself  so  powerful  at  home,  Arthur  be- 
gan to  form  designs  for  extending  his  power  abroad. 
So,  having  prepared  his  fleet,  he  first  attempted  Nor- 
way, that  he  might  procure  the  crown  of  it  for  Lot, 
his  sister's  husband.  Arthur  landed  in  Norway, 
fought  a  great  battle  with  the  king  of  that  country, 
defeated  him,  and  pursued  the  victory  till  he  had  re- 
duced tlie  whole  country  under  his  dominion,  and 
established  Lot  upon  the  throne.  Then  Arthur 
made  a  voyage  to  Gaul  and  laid  siege  to  the  city  of 
Paris.  Gaul  was  at  that  time  a  Roman  province, 
and  governed  by  FloUo,  the  Tribune.  When  the  siege 
of  Paris  had  continued  a  month,  and  the  people  be- 
gan to  suffer  from  famine,  Plollo  challenged  Arthur 
to  single  combat,  proposing  to  decide  the  conquest  of 
the  province  in  that  way.  Arthur  gladly  accepted  the 
challenge,  and  slew  his  adversary  in  the  contest,  upon 
which  the  citizens  surrendered  the  city  to  him.  After 
the  victory  Arthur  divided  his  army  into  two  parts, 
one  of  which  he  committed  to  the  conduct  of  Hoel, 
whom  he  ordered  to  march  into  Aquitaine,  while  ho 
with  the  other  part  should  endeavor  to  subdue  tlie 
other  provinces.  At  the  end  of  nine  years,  in  which 
time  all  the  parts  of  Gaul  were  entirely  reduced, 
Arthur  returned  to  Paris,  where  he  kept  his  court, 
and,  calling  an  assembly  of  the  clergy  and  people, 
established  peace  and  the  just  administration  of  the 


74  KING    ARTHUR    AND   BIS    KNIGHTS. 

laws  in  that  kingdom.  Then  he  bestowed  Norman- 
dy upon  Bedver,  his  butler,  and  the  province  of 
Andegavia  upon  Kay,  his  steward',*  and  several 
other  provinces  upon  his  great  men  that  attended 
him.  And,  having  settled  the  peace  of  the  cities 
and  countries,  he  returned  back  in  the  beginning 
of  spring  to  Britain. 

Upon  the  approach  of  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Ar- 
'thur,  the  better  to  demonstrate  his  joy  after  such 
triumphant  successes,  and  for  the  more  solemn  ob- 
servation of  that  festival,  and  reconciling  the  minds 
of  the  princes  that  were  now  subject  to  him,  resolved 
during  that  season  to  hold  a  magnificent  court,  to 
place  the  crown  upon  his  head,  and  to  invite  all  the 
kings  and  dukes  under  his  subjection  to  the  solem- 
nity. And  he  pitched  upon  Caerleon,  the  City  of 
Legions,  as  the  proper  place  for  his  purpose.  For, 
besides  its  great  wealth  above  the  other  cities,  f  its 

*  This  name,  in  the  French  romances,  is  spelled  Queux,  which 
means  head  cook.  This  would  seem  to  imply  that  it  was  a  title,  and 
not  a  name ;  yet  the  personage  who  bore  it  is  never  mentioned  by  any 
other.  He  is  the  chief,  if  not  the  only,  comic  character  among  the 
heroes  of  Arthur's  court.  He  is  the  Seneschal  or  Steward,  his  duties 
also  embracing  those  of  chief  of  the  cooks.  In  the  romances,  his 
general  character  is  a  compound  of  valor  and  buffoonery,  always 
ready  to  fight,  and  generally  getting  the  worst  of  the  battle.  He  is 
also  sarcastic  and  abusive  in  his  remarks,  by  which  he  often  gets  into 
trouble.  Yet  Arthur  seems  to  have  an  attachment  to  him,  and  often 
takes  his  advice,  which  is  generally  wrong. 

t  Several  cities  are  allotted  to  King  Arthur  by  the  romance-writers. 
The  principal  are  Caerleon,  Camelot,  and  Carlisle. 

Caerleon  derives  its  name  from  its  having  been  the  station  of  one 
of  tlie  legions,  dunng  the*  dominion  of  the  Romans.     It  is  called  by 


ARTHUR. 


situation  upon  the  river  Usk,  near  the  Severn  sea, 
was  most  pleasant  and  fit  for  so  great  a  solemnity. 
For  on  one  side  it  was  washed  by  that  noble  river, 
so  that  the  kings  and  princes  from  the  countries  be- 
yond the  seas  might  have  the  convenience  of  sailing 
up  to  it.  On  the  other  side  the  beauty  of  the  mead- 
ows and  groves,  and  magnificence  of  the  royal  pal- 
aces, with  lofty  gilded  roofs  that  adorned  it,  made 
it  even  rival  the  grandeur  of  Rome.  It  was  also 
famous  for  two  churches,  whereof  one  was  adorned 
with  a  choir  of  virgins,  who  devoted  themselves 
wholly  to  the  service  of  God,  and  the  other  main- 
tained a  convent  of  priests.  Besides,  there  was  a 
college  of  two  hundred  philosophers,  who,  being 
learned  in  astronomy  and  the  other  arts,  were  dili- 
gent in  observing  the  courses  of  the  stars,  and  gave 
Arthur  true  predictions  of  the  events  that  would 
happen.     In  this  place,  therefore,  which   afforded 


Latin  writers  Urbs  Legionum,  the  City  of  Legions.  The  former  word 
being  rendered  into  Welsh  by  Caer,  meaning  city,  and  the  latter  con- 
tracted into  lleon.  The  river  Usk  retains  its  name  in  modern  ge- 
ography, and  there  is  a  town  or  city  of  Caerleon  upon  it,  though 
the  city  of  Cardiff  is  thought  to  be  the  scene  of  Arthur's  court.  Ches- 
ter also  bears  in  Welsh  the  name  of  Caerleon ;  for  Chester,  derived 
from  casira^  Latin  for  camp,  is  the  designation  of  military  head- 
quarters. 

Camelot  is  thought  to  be  Winchester. 

Shalott  is  Guildford. 

Hamo's  Port  is  Southampton. 

Carlisle  is  the  city  still  retaining  that  name,  near  the  Scottish  bor- 
der. But  this  name  is  also  sometimes  applied  to  other  places,  which 
were,  like  itself,  military  stations. 


76  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

such  delights,  were  preparations  made  for  the  en- 
suing festival. 

Ambassadors  were  then  sent*  into  several  king- 
doms, to  invite  to  court  the  princes  both  of  Gaul 
and  of  the  adjacent  islands.  Accordingly  there 
came  Augusel,  king  of  Albania,  now  Scotland,  Cad- 
wallo,  king  of  Venedotia,  now  North  Wales,  Sater, 
king  of  Dcmetia,  now  South  Wales  ;  also  the  arch- 
bishops of  the  metropolitan  sees,  London  and  York, 
and  Dubricius,  bishop  of  Caerlcon,  the  City  of  Le- 
gions. This  prelate,  who  was  primate  of  Britain, 
was  so  eminent  for  his  piety,  that  he  could  cure  any 
sick  person  by  his  prayers.  There  were  also  the 
counts  of  the  principal  cities,  and  many  other  wor- 
thies of  no  less  dignity. 

From  the  adjacent  islands  came  Guillamurius, 
king  of  Ireland,  Gunfasius,  king  of  the  Orkneys, 
Malvasius,  king  of  Iceland,  Lot,  king  of  Norway, 
Bedver  the  butler,  Duke  of  Normandy,  Kay  the 
sewer,  Duke  of  Andegavia ;  also  the  twelve  peers  of 
Gaul,  and  IIocl,  Duke  of  the  Armorican  Britons,  with 
his  nobility,  who  came  with  such  a  train  of  mules, 
horses,  and  rich  furniture,  as  it  is  difficult  to  de- 
scribe. Besides  these,  there  remained  no  prince  of 
any  consideration  on  this  side  of  Spain  who  came 
not  upon  this  invitation.  And  no  wonder,  when 
Arthur's  munificence,  which  was  celebrated  over 
the  whole  world,  made  him  beloved  by  all  people. 

When  all  were  assembled,  upon  the  day  of  the 
solemnity,  the  archbishops  were  conducted  to  the 


ARTHUR.  77 

palace,  in  order  to  place  the  crown  upon  the  king's 
head.  Then  Dubricius,  inasmuch  as  the  court  was 
held  in  his  diocese,  made  himself  ready  to  celebrate 
the  ofiice.  As  soon  as  the  king  was  invested  with 
his  royal  habiliments,  he  was  conducted  in  great 
pomp  to  the  metropolitan  church,  having  four  kings, 
viz.  of  Albania,  Cornwall,  Demetia,  and  Venedotia, 
bearing  four  golden  swords  before  him.  On  another 
part  was  the  queen,  dressed  out  in  her  richest  orna- 
ments, conducted  by  the  archbishops  and  bishops  to 
the  Church  of  Virgins  ;  the  four  queens,  also,  of  the 
kings  last  mentioned,  bearing  before  her  four  white 
doves,  according  to  ancient  custom.  When  the 
whole  procession  was  ended,  so  transporting  was 
the  harmony  of  the  musical  instruments  and  voices, 
whereof  there  was  a  vast  variety  in  both  churches, 
that  the  knights  who  attended  were  in  doubt  which 
to  prefer,  and  therefore  crowded  from  the  one  to  the 
other  by  turns,  and  were  far  from  being  tired  of  the 
solemnity,  though  the  whole  day  had  been  spent  in 
it.  At  last,  when  divine  service  was  over  at  both 
churches,  the  king  and  queen  put  off  their  crowns, 
and,  putting  on  their  lighter  ornaments,  went  to  the 
banquet.  When  they  had  all  taken  their  seats  ac- 
cording to  precedence,  Kay  the  sewer,  in  rich  robes 
of  ermine,  with  a  thousand  young  noblemen  all  in 
like  manner  clothed  in  rich  attire,  served  up  the 
dishes.  From  another  part  Bedver  the  butler  was 
followed  by  the  same  number  of  attendants,  who 
waited  with  all  kinds  of  cups  and  drinking-vcssels. 

7# 


78  KINO    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

And  there  was  food  and  drink  in  abundance,  and 
everything  was  of  the  best  kind,  and  served  in  the 
best  manner.  For  at  that  time  Britain  had  arrived 
at  such  a  pitch  of  grandeur,  that  in  riches,  luxury, 
and  politeness  it  far  surpassed  all  other  kingdoms. 

As  soon  as  the  banquets  were  over,  they  went  into 
the  fields  without  the  city,  to  divert  themselves  with 
various  sports,  such  as  shooting  with  bows  and  ar- 
rows, tossing  the  pike,  casting  of  heavy  stones  and 
rocks,  playing  at  dice,  and  the  like,  and  all  these 
inoffensively,  and  without  quarrelling.  In  this 
manner  were  three  days  spent,  and  after  that  they 
separated,  and  the  kings  and  noblemen  departed  to 
their  several  homes. 

After  this  Arthur  reigned  five  years  in  peace. 
Then  came  ambassadors  from  Lucius  Tiberius,  Pro- 
curator under  Leo,  Emperor  of  Rome,  demanding 
tribute.  But  Arthur  refused  to  pay  tribute,  and 
prepared  for  war.  As  soon  as  the  necessary  dispo- 
sitions were  made,  he  committed  the  government  of 
his  kingdom  to  his  nephew  Modred  and  to  Queen 
Guenever,  and  marched  with  his  army  to  Hamo's 
Port,  where  the  wind  stood  fair  for  him.  The  army 
crossed  over  in  safety,  and  landed  at  the  mouth  of 
the  river  Barba.  And  there  they  pitched  their  tents 
to  wait  the  arrival  of  the  kings  of  the  islands. 

As  soon  as  all  the  forces  were  arrived,  Arthur 
marched  forward  to  Augustodunum,  and  encamped 
on  the  banks  of  the  river  Alba.  Here  repeated  bat- 
tles were  fought,  in  all  which  the  Britons,  under  their 


ARTHUR.  79 

valiant  leaders,  Hoel,  Duke  of  Armorica,  and  Gawain, 
nephew  to  Arthur,  had  the  advantage.  At  length 
Lucius  Tiberius  determined  to  retreat,  and  wait  for 
the  Emperor  Leo  to  join  him  with  fresh  troops. 
But  Arthur,  anticipating  this  event,  took  possession 
of  a  certain  valley,  and  closed  up  the  way  of  retreat 
to  Lucius,  compelling  him  to  fight  a  decisive  battle, 
in  which  Arthur  lost  some  of  the  bravest  of  his 
knights  and  most  faithful  followers.  But  on  the 
other  hand  Lucius  Tiberius  was  slain,  and  his  army 
totally  defeated.  The  fugitives  dispersed  over  the 
country,  some  to  the  by-ways  and  woods,  some  to 
the  cities  and  towns,  and  all  other  places  where  they 
could  hope  for  safety. 

Arthur  stayed  in  those  parts  till  the  next  winter 
was  over,  and  employed  his  time  in  restoring  order 
and  settling  the  government.  He  then  returned 
into  England,  and  celebrated  his  victories  with' 
great  splendor. 

Then  the  king  stablished  all  his  knights,  and  to 
them  that  were  not  rich  he  gave  lands,  and  charged 
them  all  never  to  do  outrage  nor  murder,  and  al- 
ways to  flee  treason  ;  also,  by  no  means  to  be  cruel, 
but  to  give  mercy  unto  him  that  asked  mercy,  upon 
pain  of  forfeiture  of  their  worship  and  lOrdship ;  and 
always  to  do  ladies,  damosels,  and  gentlewomen 
service,  upon  pain  of  death.  Also  that  no  man  take 
battle  in  a  wrongful  quarrel,  for  no  law,  nor  for 
any  world's  goods.  Unto  this  were  all  the  knights 
sworn  of  the  Table  Round,  both   old  and  young. 


80  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

And  at  every  year  were  they  sworn  at  the  high  feast 
of  Pentecost. 


KING   ARTHUR   SLAYS   THE   GIANT   OF   ST.    MICHAEL'S 
MOUNT. 

AVhile  the  army  was  encamped  in  Brittany,  await- 
ing the  arrival  of  the  kings,  there  came  a  country- 
man to  Arthur,  and  told  him  that  a  giant,  whose 
cave  was  on  a  neighboring  mountain,  called  St. 
Michael's  Mount,  had  for  a  long  time  been  accus- 
tomed to  carry  off  the  children  of  the  peasants,  to 
devour  them.  "  And  now  he  hath  taken  the  Duch- 
ess of  Brittany,  as  she  rode  with  her  attendants,  and 
hath  carried  her  away  in  spite  of  all  they  could  do." 
"  Now,  fellow,"  said  King  Arthur,  "  canst  thou 
bring  me  there  where  this  giant  haunteth  ? "  ''  Yea, 
sure,"  said  the  good  man ;  ''  lo,  yonder  where  thou 
seest  two  great  fires,  there  shalt  thou  find  him,  and 
more  treasure  than  I  suppose  is  in  all  France  be- 
side." Then  the  king  called  to  him  Sir  Bedver  and 
Sir  Kay,  and  commanded  them  to  make  ready  horse 
and  harness  for  himself  and  them ;  for  after  evening 
he  would  ride  on  pilgrimage  to  St.  Michael's  Mount. 

So  they  three  departed,  and  rode  forth  till  they 
came  to  the  foot  of  the  mount.  And  there  the  king 
commanded  them  to  tarry,  for  he  would  himself 
go  up  into  that  mount.  So  he  ascended  the  hill 
till  he  came  to  a  great  fire,  and  there  he  found  an 
aged  woman  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave,  making 


ARTHUR.  81 

great  sorrow.  Then  King  Arthur  saluted  her,  and 
demanded  of  her  wherefore  she  made  such  lamenta- 
tion ;  to  whom  she  answered :  ''  Sir  knight,  speak 
low,  for  yonder  is  a  devil,  and  if  he  hear  thee  speak, 
he  will  come  and  destroy  thee.  For  ye  cannot  make 
resistance  to  him,  he  is  so  fierce  and  so  strong.  He 
hath  murdered  the  Duchess,  which  here  lietli,  who 
was  the  fairest  of  all  the  world,  wife  to  Sir  Hoel, 
Duke  of  Brittany."  ^'Dame,"  said  the  king,  *' I 
come  from  the  noble  conqueror.  King  Arthur,  to 
treat  with  that  tyrant."  "  Fie  on  such  treaties," 
said  she  ;  ''he  setteth  not  by  the  king,  nor  by  no 
man  else."  "Well,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  will  accom- 
plish my  message  for  all  your  fearful  words."  So 
he  went  forth  by  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  saw  where 
the  giant  sat  at  supper,  gnawing  on  the  limb  of  a 
man,  and  baking  his  broad  limbs  at  the  fire,  and 
three  fair  damsels  lying  bound,  whose  lot  it  was  to 
be  devoured  in  their  turn.  When  King  Arthur  be- 
held that,  he  had  great  compassion  on  them,  so  that 
his  heart  bled  for  sorrow.  Then  he  hailed  the  giant, 
saying,  "  He  that  all  the  world  ruleth  give  thee 
short  life  and  shameful  death.  Why  hast  thou 
murdered  this  Duchess  ?  Therefore  come  forth, 
thou  caitiff,  for  this  day  thou  shalt  die  by  my  hand." 
Then  the  giant  started  up,  and  took  a  great  club, 
and  smote  at  the  king,  and  smote  off  his  coronal ; 
and  then  the  king  struck  him  in  tlie  belly  with  his 
sword,  and  made  a  fearful  wound.  Then  the  giant 
threw  away  his  club,  and  caught  the  king  in  his 


82  KI]Sa   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

arms,  so  that  he  crushed  liis  ribs.  Then  the  three 
maidens  kneeled  down  and  prayed  for  help  and 
comfort  for  Arthur.  And  Arthur  weltered  and 
wrenched,  so  that  he  was  one  while  under,  and  an- 
other time  above.  And  so  weltering  and  wallowing 
they  rolled  down  the  hill,  and  ever  as  they  weltered 
Arthur  smote  him  with  his  dagger  ;  and  it  fortuned 
they  came  to  the  place  where  the  two  knights  were. 
And  when  they  saw  the  king  fast  in  the  giant's  arms, 
they  came  and  loosed  him.  Then  the  king  com- 
manded Sir  Kay  to  smite  off  the  giant's  head,  and 
to  set  it  on  the  truncheon  of  a  spear,  and  fix  it  on 
the  barbican,  that  all  the  people  might  see  and  be- 
hold it.  This  was  done,  and  anon  it  was  known 
through  all  the  country,  wherefor  the  people  came 
and  thanked  the  king.  And  he  said,  "  Give  your 
thanks  to  God ;  and  take  ye  the  giant's  spoil  and 
divide  it  among  you."  And  King  Arthur  caused  a 
church  to  be  builded  on  that  hill,  in  honor  of  St. 
Michael. 


KING  ABTHUU  GETS  A  SWORD  FROM  THE  LADY  OF 
THE  LAKE. 

One  day  King  Arthur  rode  forth,  and  on  a  sudden 
he  was  ware  of  three  churls  chasing  Merlin,  to  have 
slain  him.  And  the  king  rode  unto  them  and  bade 
them,  "  Flee,  churls ! "  Then  were  they  afraid  when 
they  saw  a  knight,  and  fled.  "  0  Merlin,"  said 
Arthur,  ''  here  hadst  thou  been  slain,  for  all  thy 


ARTHUR.  83. 

crafts,  had  I  not  been  by."  "  Nay,"  said  Merlin, 
"  not  so,  for  I  could  save  myself  if  I  would  ;  but 
thou  art  more  near  thy  death  than  I  am."  So,  as 
they  went  thus  talking,  King  Arthur  perceived  where 
sat  a  knight  on  horseback,  as  if  to  guard  the  pass. 
"  Sir  knight,"  said  Arthur,  "  for  what  cause  abidest 
thou  here  ?  "  Then  the  knight  said,  "  There  may 
no  knight  ride  this  way  unless  he  just  with  me,  for 
such  is  the  custom  of  the  pass."  "  I  will  amend 
that  custom,"  said  the  king.  Then  they  ran  to- 
gether, and  they  met  so  hard  that  their  spears  were 
shivered.  Then  they  drew  their  swords  and  fought 
a  strong  battle,  with  many  great  strokes.  But  at 
length  the  sword  of  the  knight  smote  King  Arthur's 
sword  in  two  pieces.  Then  said  the  knight  unto 
Arthur,  "  Thou  art  in  my  power,  whether  to  save 
thee  or  slay  thee,  and  unless  thou  yield  thee  as  over- 
come and  recreant,  thou  slialt  die."  ^i  As  for  death," 
said  King  Arthvir,  "  welcome  be  it  when  it  cometh ; 
but  to  yield  me  unto  thee  as  recreant,  I  will  not." 
Then  he  leapt  upon  the  knight,  and  took  him  by  the 
middle  and  threw  him  down  ;  but  the  knight  was  a 
l^assing  strong  man,  and  anon  he  brought  Arthur 
under  him,  and  would  have  razed  off  his  helm  to 
slay  him.  Then  said  Merlin,  "Knight,  hold  thy 
hand,  for  this  knight  is  a  man  of  more  worship  than 
thou  art  aware  of."  "  Why,  who  is  he  ?  "  said  the 
knight.  "  It  is  King  Arthur."  Then  would  he 
have  slain  him  for  dread  of  his  wrath,  and  lifted  up 
his  sword  to  slay  him ;  and  therewith  Merlhi  cast  an 


84  KIXG   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

enchantment  on  the  knight,  so  that  he  fell  to  the 
earth  in  a  great  sleep.  Then  Merlin  took  up  King 
Arthur,  and  set  him  on  his  horse.  "  Alas  !  "  said 
Arthur,  "  what  hast  thou  done.  Merlin  ?  hast  thou 
slain  this  good  knight  by  thy  crafts  ?  "  "  Care  ye 
not,"  said  Merlin  ;  "  he  is  wholer  than  ye  be.  He 
is  only  asleep,  and  will  wake  in  three  hours.'' 

Then  the  king  and  he  departed,  and  went  till  they 
came  to  a  hermit,  that  was  a  good  man  and  a  great 
leech.  So  the  hermit  searched  all  his  wounds,  and 
applied  good  salves ;  and  the  king  was  there  three 
days,  and  then  were  his  wounds  well  amended,  that 
he  might  ride  and  go.  So  they  departed,  and  as 
they  rode  Arthur  said,  "  I  have  no  sword."  "  No 
matter,"  said  Merlin;  "  hereby  is  a  sword  that  shall 
be  yours."  So  they  rode  till  they  came  to  a  lake, 
which  was  a  fair  water  and  broad.  And  in  the 
midst  of  the  lake  Arthur  was  aware  of  an  arm 
clothed  in  white  samite,*  that  held  a  fair  sword  in 
the  hand.  "  Lo  !  "  said  Merlin,  "  yonder  is  that 
sword  that  I  spake  of.  It  belongeth  to  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake,  and,  if  she  will,  thou  mayest  take  it ;  but 
if  she  will  not,  it  will  not  be  in  thy  power  to  take  it." 

So  Sir  Arthur  and  Merlin  alighted  from  their 
horses,  and  went  into  a  boat.  And  when  they  came 
to  the  sword  that  the  hand  lield.  Sir  Arthur  took  it 
by  the  handle  and  took  it  to  him,  and  the  arm  and 
the  hand  went  under  the  water. 

*  Siimitey  A  sort  of  silk  stuff. 


King  Arthur  ohtainingr  n  sword  from  the  r.,dy 


oftheI^k*> 


^hgeBi 


[TIHI'VBB.-iTTJ 


ARTHUR.  85 

Then  they  returned  unto  the  land  and  rode  forth. 
And  Sir  Arthur  looked  on  the  sword  and  liked  it 
right  well. 

So  they  rode  unto  Caerleon,  whereof  his  knights 
were  passing  glad.  And  when  they  heard  of  his 
adventures,  they  marvelled  that  he  would  jeopard 
his  person  so  alone.  But  all  men  of  worship  said  it 
was  a  fine  thing  to  be  under  such  a  chieftain  as 
would  put  his  person  in  adventure  as  other  poor 
knidits  did. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


SIR  GAWAIN. 


Sir  Gawain  was  nephew  to  King  Arthur,  by  his 
sister  Morgana,  married  to  Lot,  king  of  Orkney, 
who  was  by  Arthur  made  king  of  Norway.  Sir 
Gawain  was  one  of  the  most  famous  knights  of  the 
Round  Table,  and  is  characterized  by  the  roman- 
cers as  the  sag-e  and  courteous  Gawain.  To  this 
Chaucer  aUudes  in  his  "  Squiere's  Tale,"  where  the 
strange  knight  "  salueth  "  all  the  court 

'*  With  so  liigh  reverence  and  observance, 
As  well  in  speeche  as  in  contenancc, 
That  Gawain,  with  his  olde  curtesie. 
Though  he  were  come  agcn  out  of  faerie, 
Ne  coude  him  not  amenden  with  a  word/' 

Gawain's  brothers  were  Agravain,  Gaharet,  and 
Gareth. 

SIR  gawain's  marriage. 

Once  upon  a  time  King  Arthur  held  his  court  in 
merry  Carlisle,  when  a  damsel  came  before  him  and 
craved  a  boon.     It  was  for  vengeance  upon  a  caitiff 


SIK    GAWAIN.  8T 

knight,  who  had  made  her  lover  captive  and  de- 
spoiled her  of  her  lands.  King  Arthur  commanded 
to  bring  him  his  sword,  Excalibar,  and  to  saddle  his 
steed,  and  rode  forth  without  delay  to  right  the 
lady's  wrong.  Erelong  he  reached  the  castle  of 
the  grim  baron,  and  challenged  him  to  the  conflict. 
But  the  castle  stood  on  magic  ground,  and  the  spell 
was  such  that  no  knight  could  tread  thereon  but 
straight  hi»  courage  fell  and  his  strength  decayed. 
King  Arthur  felt  the  charm,  and  before  a  blow  was 
struck,  his  sturdy  limbs  lost  their  strength,  and  his 
head  grew  faint.  He  was  fain  to  yield  himself  pris- 
oner to  the  churlish  knight,  who  refused  to  release 
him  except  upon  condition  that  he  should  return  at 
the  end  of  a  year,  and  bring  a  true  answer  to  the 
question,  ''  What  thing  is  it  which  women  most  de- 
sire ?  "  or  in  default  thereof  surrender  himself  and 
his  lands.  King  Arthur  accepted  the  terms,  and 
gave  his  oath  to  return  at  the  time  appointed.  Dur- 
ing the  year  the  king  rode  east,  and  he  rode  west, 
and  inquired  of  all  whom  he  met  what  thing  it 
is  which  all  women  most  desire.  Some  told  him 
riches  ;  some,  pomp  and  state  ;  some,  mirth ;  some, 
flattery  ;  and  some,  a  gallant  knight.  But  in  the  di- 
versity of  answers  he  could  find  no  sure  dependence. 
The  year  was  wellnigh  spent,  when  one  day,  as  he 
rode  thoughtfully  through  a  forest,  he  saw  sitting 
beneath  a  tree  a  lady  of  such  hideous  aspect  that  he 
turned  away  his  eyes,  and  when  she  greeted  him  in 
seemly  sort,  made   no  answer.     "  AVhat  wight  art 


88  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

thou,"  the  lady  said,  ''  that  will  not  speak  to  me  ? 
It  may  chance  that  I  may  resolve  thy  doubts, 
though  I  be  not  fair  of  aspect."  "  If  thou  wilt  do 
so,"  said  King  Artliur,  "  choose  what  reward  thou 
wilt,  thou  grim  lady,  and  it  shall  be  given  thee." 
"  Swear  me  this  upon  thy  faith,"  she  said,  and  Ar- 
thur swore  it.  Then  the  lady  told  him  the  secret, 
and  demanded  her 'reward,  which  was  that  the  king 
should  find  some  fair  and  courtly  kniglit  to  be  her 
husband. 

King  Arthur  hastened  to  the  grim  baron's  castle 
and  told  him  one  by  one  all  the  answers  which  he 
had  received  from  his  various  advisers,  except  the 
last,  and  not  one  was  admitted  as  the  true  one. 
"  Now  yield  thee,  Arthur,"  the  giant  said,  "  for  thou 
hast  not  paid  thy  ransom,  and  thou  and  thy  lands 
are  forfeited  to  me."     Then  King  Arthur  said : 

"  Yet  hold  thy  hand,  thou  proud  baron,  .  ,  ^ 

I  pray  thee  hold  thy  hand, 
And  give  me  leave  to  speak  once  more, 

In  rescue  of  my  land. 
This  morn,  as  I  came  over  a  moor, 

I  saw  a  lady  set, 
Between  an  oak  and  a  green  holly, 

All  clad  in  red  scarlett. 
She  says  all  icomen  would  have  their  will^ 

This  is  their  chief  desire ; 
Now  yield,  as  thou  art  a  baron  tnie, 

That  I  have  paid  my  hire." 

"  It  was  my  sister  that  told  thee  this,"  the  churl- 
ish baron  exclaimed.  "  Vengeance  light  on  her !  I 
will  some  time  or  other  do  her  as  ill  a  turn." 


SIR    GAWAIN.  89 

King  Arthur  rode  homeward,  but  not  hght  of 
heart ;  for  he  remembered  the  promise  he  was  under 
to  the  loathly  ladj  to  give  Iier  one  of  his  young  and 
gallant  knights  for  a  husband.  He  told  his  grief  to 
Sir  Gawain,  his  nephew,  and  he  replied,  ^' Be  not 
sad,  my  lord,  for  I  will  marry  the  loathly  lady." 
King  Arthur  replied: 

"  Now  nay,  now  nay,  good  Sir  Gawaine, 

My  sister's  son  ye  be ; 
The  loathly  lady  's  all  too  giim, 
And  all  too  foule  for  thee." 

But  Gawain  persisted,  and  the  king  at  last,  with 
sorrow  of  heart,  consented  that  Gawain  should  be 
his  ransom.  So,  one  day,  the  king  and  his  knights 
rode  to  the  forest,  met  the  loathly  lady,  and  brought 
her  to  the  court.  Sir  Gawain  stood  the  scoffs  and 
jeers  of  his  companions  as  he  best  might,  and  the 
marriage  was  solemnized,  but  not  with  the  usual 
festivities.     Chaucer  tells  us:  — 

"  There  was  no  joye  ne  feste  at  alle ; 
There  n'as  but  hevinessc  and  mochel  sorwe, 
For  prively  he  wed  her  on  the  morwe, 
And  all  day  after  hid  him  as  an  owle, 
So  wo  was  him  his  wife  loked  so  foule !  "  * 

When  night  came,  and  they  were  alone  together, 
Sir  Gawain  could  not  conceal  his  aversion  ;  and  the 

*  N^as  is  not  was,  contracted ;  in  modern  phrase,  there  was  not. 
Mochel  sorwe  is  much  sorrow ;    morwe  is  morrow. 


90  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

lady  asked  him  why  he  sighed  so  heavily,  and  turned 
away  his  face.  He  candidly  confessed  it  was  on  ac- 
count of  three  things,  her  age,  her  ugliness,  and  her 
low  degree.  iThe  lady,  not  at  all  offended,  replied 
with  excellent  arguments  to  all  his  objections.  She 
showed  him  that  with  age  is  discretion,  with  ugli- 
ness security  from  rivals,  and  that  all  true  gentility 
depends,  not  upon  the  accident  of  birth,  but  upon 
the  character  of  the  individual. 

Sir  Gawain  made  no  reply ;  but,  turning  his  eyes 
on  his  bride,  what  was  his  amazement  to  perceive 
that  she  wore  no  longer  the  unseemly  aspect  that 
had  so  distressed  him.  She  then  told  him  that  the 
form  she  had  worn  was  not  her  true  form,  but  a  dis- 
guise imposed  upon  her  by  a  wicked  enchanter,  and 
that  she  was  condemned  to  wear  it  until  two  things 
should  happen ;  one,  that  she  should  obtain  some 
young  and  gallant  knight  to  be  her  husband.  This 
having  been  done,  one  half  of  the  charm  was  re- 
moved. She  was  now  at  liberty  to  wear  her  true 
form  for  half  the  time,  and  she  bade  him  choose 
whether  he  would  have  her  fair  by  day,  and  ugly  by 
night,  or  the  reverse.  Sir  Gawain  would  fain  have 
had  her  look  her  best  by  night,  when  he  alone 
should  see  her,  and  show  her  repulsive  visage,  if  at 
all,  to  others.  But  she  reminded  him  how  much 
more  pleasant  it  would  be  to  her  to  wear  her  best 
looks  in  the  throng  of  knights  and  ladies  by  day. 
Sir  Gawain  yielded,  and  gave  up  his  will  to  hers. 
This  alone  was  wanting  to  dissolve  the  charm.     Tlie 


SIR    GAWAIN.  91 

lovely  lady  now  with  joy  assured  him  that  she 
should  change  no  more ;  but  as  sh^  now  was,  so 
would  she  remain  by  night  as  well  as  by  day. 

"  Sweet  blushes  stayned  her  rud-red  cheek, 

Her  eyen  were  black  as  sloe, 
The  ripening  cherrye  swelled  her  lippo, 

And  all  her  neck  was  snow. 
Sir  Gawain  kist  that  ladye  fairc 

Lying  upon  the  sheete, 
And  swore,  as  he  was  a  true  knight, 

The  spice  was  never  so  swete." 

The  dissolution  of  the  charm  which  had  held  the 
lady  also  released  her  brother,  the  "  grim  baron,*' 
for  he  too  had  been  implicated  in  it.  He  ceased  to 
be  a  churlish  oppressor,  and  became  a  gallant  and 
generous  knight  as  any  at  Arthur's  court. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CARADOC  BRIEFBRAS;  OR,  CARADOC  WITH  THE 
SHRUNKEN  ARM. 

Caradoc  was  the  son  of  Ysenne,  the  beautiful 
iiiece  of  Arthur.  He  was  ignorant  who  his  father 
was,  till  it  was  discovered  in  the  following  manner. 
When  the  youth  was  of  proper  years  to  receive  the 
honors  of  knighthood,  King  Arthur  held  a  grand 
court  for  the  purpose  of  knigliting  him.  On  this 
occasion  a  strange  knight  presented  himself,  and 
challenged  the  knights  of  Arthur's  court  to  exchange 
blow  for  blow  with  him.  His  proposal  was  this,  — to 
lay  his  neck  on  a  block  for  any  knight  to  strike,  on 
condition  that,  if  he  survived  the  blow,  the  knight 
should  submit  in  turn  to  tlie  same  experiment.  Sir 
Kay,  who  was  usually  ready  to  accept  all  challenges, 
pronounced  this  wholly  unreasonable,  and  declared 
that  he  would  not  accept  it  for  all  the  wealth  in  the 
world.  And  when  the  knight  offered  his  sword, 
with  Avliich  the  operation  was  to  be  performed,  no 
person  ventured  to  accept  it,  till  Caradoc,  growing 
angry  at  the  disgrace  which  was  thus  incurred  by 
the  Round  Table,  threw  aside  his  mantle  and  took 


CAIIADOC    liRIEFBRAS.  93 

it.  "  Do  you  do  this  as  one  of  the  best  knights  ?  " 
said  the  stranger.  "No,"  he  replied,  ''but  as  one 
of  the  most  foolish."  The  stranger  lays  his  head 
upon  the  block,  receives  a  blow  which  sends  it  roll- 
ing from  his  shoulders,  walks  after  it,  picks  it  up, 
replaces  it  with  great  success,  and  says  he  will  re- 
turn when  the  court  shall  be  assembled  next  year, 
and  claim  his  turn.  When  tlie  anniversary  arrived, 
both  parties  were  punctual  to  their  engagement. 
Great  entreaties  were  used  by  the  king  and  queen, 
and  the  whole  court,  in  behalf  of  Caradoc,  but  the 
stranger  was  inflexible.  The  young  knight  laid  his 
head  upon  the  block,  and  more  than  once  desired 
him  to  make  an  end  of  the  business,  and  not  keep 
him  longer  in  so  disagreeable  a  state  of  expectation. 
At  last  the  stranger  strikes  him  gently  with  the  side 
of  the  sword,  bids  him  rise,  and  reveals  to  him  the 
fact  that  he  is  his  father,  the  enchanter  Eliaures, 
and  that  he  gladly  owns  him  for  a  son,  having  proved 
his  courage  and  fidelity  to  his  word. 

But  the  favor  of  enchanters  is  short-lived  and  un- 
certain. Eliaures  fell  under  the  influence  of  a  wick- 
ed woman,  who,  to  satisfy  her  pique  against  Caradoc, 
persuaded  the  enchanter  to  fasten  on  his  arm  a  ser- 
pent, which  remained  there  sucking  at  his  flesh  and 
blood,  no  human  skill  sufficing  either  to  remove  the 
reptile,  or  alleviate  the  torments  which  Caradoc  en- 
dured. 

Caradoc  was  betrothed  to  Guimier,  sister  to  his 
bosom  friend  Cador,  and  daughter  to  the  king  of 


04  KINO    ARTHUR    AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

Cornwall.  As  soon  as  they  were  informed  of  his 
deplorable  condition,  they  set  out  for  Nantes,  where 
Caradoc's  castle  was,  that  Guimier  might  attend 
upon  him.  When  Caradoc  heard  of  their  coming, 
his  first  emotion  was  that  of  joy  and  love.  But  soon 
he  began  to  fear  that  the  sight  of  his  emaciated  form, 
and  of  his  sufferings,  would  disgust  Guimier ;  and 
this  apprehension  became  so  strong,  that  he  departed 
secretly  from  Nantes,  and  hid  himself  in  a  hermitage. 
He  was  sought  far  and  near  by  the  knights  of  Ar- 
thur's court,  and  Cador  made  a  vow  never  to  desist 
from  the  quest  till  he  should  have  found  him.  Af- 
ter long  wandering,  Cador  discovered  his  friend  in 
the  hermitage,  reduced  almost  to  a  skeleton,  and 
apparently  near  his  death.  All  other  means  of  re- 
lief having  already  been  tried  in  vain,  Cador  at  last 
prevailed  on  the  enchanter  Eliaures  to  disclose  the 
only  method  which  could  avail  for  his  rescue.  A 
maiden  must  be  found,  his  equal  in  birth  and  beauty, 
and  loving  him  better  than  herself,  so  that  she  would 
expose  herself  to  the  same  torment  to  deliver  him. 
Two  vessels  were  then  to  be  provided,  the  one  filled 
with  sour  wine,  and  the  other  with  milk.  Caradoc 
must  enter  the  first,  so  that  the  wine  should  reach 
his  neck,  and  the  maiden  must  get  into  the  other, 
and,  exposing  her  bosom  upon  the  edge  of  the  vessel, 
invite  the  serpent  to  forsake  the  withered  flesh  of 
his  victim  for  this  fresh  and  inviting  food.  The 
vessels  were  to  be  placed  three  feet  apart,  and  as  the 
serpent  crossed  from  one  to  the  other,  a  knight  was 


CARADOC    EUIKIBRAS.  .9i5 

to  cut  him  in  two.  If  he  failed  in  his  blow,  Caradoc 
would  indeed  be  delivered,  but  it  would  be  only  to 
see  his  fair  champion  suffering  the  same  cruel  and 
hopeless  torment.  The  sequel  may  be  easily  fore- 
seen. Guimier  willingly  exposed  herself  to  the  per- 
ilous adventure,  and  Cad  or,  with  a  lucky  blow,  killed 
the  serpent.  The  arm,  in  which  Caradoc  had  suf- 
fered so  long,  recovered  its  strength,  but  not  its 
shape,  in  consequence  of  which  he  was  called  Cara- 
doc Brief  bras,  Caradoc  of  the  Shrunken  Arm. 

Caradoc  and  Guimier  are  the  hero  and  heroine  of 
the  ballad  of  the  Boy  and  the  Mantle,  which  follows. 

THE   BOY    AND   THE   MANTLE. 

In  Carlisle  dwelt  King  Arthur, 

A  prince  of  passing  might. 
And  there  maintained  his  Table  Round, 

Beset  with  many  a  knight. 

And  there  he  kept  his  Christmas, 

With  mirth  and  princely  cheer, 
When  lo !  a  strange  and  cunning  boy 

Before  him  did  appear. 

A  kirtlc  and  a  mantle 

This  boy  had  him  upon. 
With  brooches,  rings,  and  ouches, 

Full  daintily  bedone. 

He  had  a  sash  of  silk 

About  his  middle  meet; 
And  thus  with  seemly  curtesio 

Ho  did  King  Arthur  greet: 


96  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  Grod  speed  thee,  brave  King  Arthur, 
Thus  feasting  in  thy  bower, 

And  Guenever,  thy  goodly  queen. 
That  fair  and  peerless  flower. 

"  Ye  gallant  lords  and  lordlings, 
I  wish  you  all  take  heed, 

Lest  what  ye  deem  a  blooming  roso 
Should  prove  a  cankered  weed.** 

Then  straightway  from  his  bosom 

A  little  wand  he  drew ; 
And  with  it  eke  a  mantle, 

Of  wondrous  shape  and  hue. 

"  Kow  have  thou  here,  King  Arthur, 

Have  this  here  of  me. 
And  give  unto  thy  comely  queen. 

All  shapen  as  you  see. 

"No  wife  it  shall  become, 

That  once  hath  been  to  blame." 

Then  every  knight  in  Arthur's  court 
Sly  glanced  at  his  dame. 

And  first  came  Lady  Guenever, 
The  mantle  she  must  try. 

This  dame  she  was  new-fangled,* 
And  of  a  roving  eye. 

When  she  had  taken  the  mantle. 
And  all  with  it  was  clad. 

From  top  to  toe  it  shivered  down, 
As  though  with  shears  beshred. 

One  while  it  was  too  long, 
Another  while  too  short. 

And  wrinkled  on  her  shouldei's. 
In  most  unseemly  sort. 

*  Xew-fangled,  —  fond  of  novelty. 


CARADOC    BRIEFBRAS. 

Now  green,  now  red  it  seemed, 

Then  all  of  sable  hue ; 
"Beshrew  me,"  quoth  King  Arthur, 

I  think  thou  be'st  not  true !  ** 

Down  she  threw  the  mantle. 

No  longer  would  she  stay ; 
But,  storming  like  a  fury, 

To  her  chamber  flung  away. 

She  cursed  the  rascal  weaver, 
That  had  the  mantle  wrought ; 

And  doubly  cursed  the  froward  imp 
Who  thither  had  it  brought. 

*'  I  had  rather  live  in  deserts, 

Beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 
Than  here,  base  king,  among  thy  grooms, 

The  sport  of  them  and  thee." 

Sir  Kay  called  forth  his  lady, 

And  bade  her  to  come  near: 
"  Yet  dame,  if  thou  be  guilty, 

I  pray  thee  now  forbear." 

This  lady,  pertly  giggling, 

With  forward  step  came  on. 
And  boldly  to  the  little  boy 

With  fearless  face  is  gone. 

When  she  had  taken  the  mantle, 

With  purpose  for  to  wear, 
It  shrunk  up  to  her  shoulder. 

And  left  her  back  all  bare. 

Then  every  merry  knight, 

That  Avas  in  Arthur's  court. 
Gibed  and  laughed  and  flouted. 

To  see  that  pleasant  sport. 
9 


97 


D8  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Down  she  threw  the  mantle, 

No  longer  bold  or  gay, 
But,  with  a  face  all  pale  and  wan. 

To  her  chamber  slunk  away. 

Then  forth  came  an  old  knight 
A  pattering  o'er  his  creed. 

And  proffered  to  the  little  boy 
Five  nobles  to  his  meed : 

"  And  all  the  time  of  Christmas 
Plum-porridge  shall  be  thine. 

If  thou  wilt  let  my  lady  fair 
Within  the  mantle  shine." 

A  saint  his  lady  seemed. 
With  step  demure  and  slow, 

And  gravely  to  the  mantle 
With  mincing  face  doth  go. 

When  she  the  same  had  taken 
That  was  so  fine  and  thin. 

It  shrivelled  all  about  her. 
And  showed  her  dainty  skin. 

Ah !  little  did  her  mincing. 
Or  his  long  prayers  bestead  ; 

She  had  no  more  hung  on  her 
Than  a  tassel  and  a  thread. 

Down  she  threw  the  mantle. 
With  terror  and  dismay. 

And  with  a  face  of  scarlet 
To  her  chamber  hied  away. 

Sir  Cradock  called  his  lady, 
And  bade  her  to  come  near : 

*'  Come  win  this  mantle,  lady. 
And  do  me  credit  here  : 


CARADOC    BRIEFBRAS.  99 

"  Come  win  this  mantle,  lady, 

For  now  it  shall  be  thine, 
If  thou  hast  never  done  amiss. 

Since  first  I  made  thee  mine." 

The  lady,  gently  blushing. 

With  modest  grace  came  on ; 
And  now  to  try  the  wondrous  charm 

Courageously  is  gone. 

When  she  had  ta'en  the  mantle, 

And  put  it  on  her  back, 
About  the  hem  it  seemed 

To  wrinkle  and  to  crack. 

"  Lie  still,"  she  cried,  "  O  mantle  I 

And  shame  me  not  for  naught ; 
I  'U/reely  own  whatever  amiss 

Or  blameful  I  have  wrought 

"  Once  I  kissed  Sir  Cradock 

Beneath  the  greenwood  tree ; 
Once  I  kissed  Sir  Cradock's  mouth, 

Before  he  married  me." 

When  she  had  thus  her  shriven, 

And  her  worst  fault  had  told. 
The  mantle  soon  became  her, 

Bight  comely  as  it  should. 

Most  rich  and  fair  of  color, 

Like  gold  it  glittering  shone. 
And  much  the  knights  in  Arthur's  court 

Admired  her  every  one. 

The  ballad  goes  on  to  tell  of  two  more  trials  of  a 
similar  kind,  made  by  means  of  a  boar's  head  and 
a  drinking-horn,  in  both  of  which  the  result  was 


100  KING   ARTHUR   AND    IIIS    KNIGHTS. 

equally  favorable  with  the  first  to  Sir  Cradock  and 
his  lady.     It  then  concludes  as  follows :  — 

Thus  boar's  head,  horn,  and  mantle 

Were  this  fair  couple's  meed ; 
And  all  such  constant  lovers, 

God  send  them  well  to  speed. 

Percy's  Bdiques, 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

LAUNCELOT  OE   THE  LAKE. 

King  Ban,  of  Brittany,  the  faithful  ally  of  Arthur, 
was  attacked  by  his  enemy  Claudas,  and,  after  a  long 
war,  saw  himself  reduced  to  the  possession  of  a  sin- 
gle fortress,  where  he  was  besieged  by  his  enemy. 
In  this  extremity  he  determined  to  solicit  the  assist- 
ance of  Arthur,  and  escaped  in  a  dark  night,  with 
his  wife  Helen  and  his  infant  son  Launcelot,  leaving 
his  castle  in  the  hands  of  his  seneschal,  who  imme- 
diately surrendered  the  place  to  Claudas.  The 
flames  of  his  burning  citadel  reached  the  eyes  of 
the  unfortunate  monarch  during  his  flight,  and  he 
expired  with  grief.  The  wretched  Helen,  leaving 
her  child  on  the  brink  of  a  lake,  flew  to  receive  the 
last  sighs  of  her  husband,  and  on  returning  per- 
ceived the  little  Launcelot  in  the  arms  of  a  nymph, 
who,  on  the  approach  of  the  queen,  threw  herself 
into  the  lake  with  the  child.  This  nymph  was 
Yiviane,  mistress  of  the  enchanter  Merlin,  better 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.    Laun- 

9* 


102  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

celot  received  his  appellation  from  having  been 
educated  at  the  court  of  this  enchantress,  whose 
palace  was  situated  in  the  midst,  not  of  a  real,  but, 
like  the  appearance  which  deceives  the  African 
traveller,  of  an  imaginary  lake,  whose  deluding 
resemblance  served  as  a  barrier  to  her  residence. 
Here  she  dwelt  not  alone,  but  in  the  midst  of  a 
numerous  retinue,  and  a  splendid  court  of  knights 
and  damsels. 

The  queen,  after  her  double  loss,  retired  to  a  con- 
vent, where  she  was  joined  by  the  widow  of  Bohort, 
for  this  good  king  had  died  of  grief,  on  hearing  of 
the  death  of  his  brother  Ban.  His  two  sons,  Lionel 
and  Bohort,  were  rescued  by  a  faithful  knight,  and 
arrived  in  the  shape  of  greyhounds  at  the  palace  of 
the  lake,  where,  having  resumed  their  natural  form, 
they  were  educated  along  with  their  cousin  Launcelot. 

The  fairy,  when  her  pupil  had  attained  the  age  of 
eighteen,  conveyed  him  to  the  court  of  Arthur,  for 
the  purpose  of  demanding  his  admission  to  the  honor 
of  knighthood ;  and  at  the  first  appearance  of  the 
youthful  candidate,  the  graces  of  his  person,  which 
were  not  inferior  to  his  courage  and  skill  in  arms, 
made  an  instantaneous  and  indelible  impression  on 
the  heart  of  Guenever,  while  her  charms  inspired 
him  with  an  equally  ardent  and  constant  passion. 
The  mutual  attachment  of  these  lovers  exerted, 
from  that  time  forth,  an  influence  over  the  whole 
history  of  Arthur.  For  the  sake  of  Guenever, 
Launcelot  achieved  the  conquest  of  Northumberland, 


LAUNCELOT    OF   THE   LAKE.  103 

defeated  Gallehaut,  King  of  the  Marches,  who  after- 
wards became  his  most  faithful  friend  and  ally,  ex- 
posed himself  in  numberless  encounters,  and  brought 
hosts  of  prisoners  to  the  feet  of  his  sovereign. 

SIR  LAUNCELOT. 

After  King  Arthur  was  come  from  Rome  into 
England,  all  the  knights  of  the  Table  Round  resort- 
ed unto  him,  and  made  him  many  justs  and  tourna- 
ments. And  in  especial  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake, 
in  all  tournaments  and  justs  and  deeds  of  arms,  both 
for  life  and  death,  passed  all  other  knights,  and  was 
never  overcome,  except  it  were  by  treason  or  en- 
chantment ;  and  he  increased  marvellously  in  wor- 
ship, wherefore  Queen  Guenever  had  him  in  great 
favor,  above  all  other  knights.  And  for  certain  he 
loved  the  queen  again  above  all  other  ladies  ;  and 
for  her  he  did  many  deeds  of  arms,  and  saved  her 
from  peril,  through  his  noble  chivalry.  Thus  Sir 
Launcelot  rested  him  long  with  play  and  game,  and 
then  he  thought  to  prove  himself  in  strange  adven- 
tures ;  so  he  bade  his  nephew.  Sir  Lionel,  to  make 
him  ready,  —  ^' for  we  two  will  seek  adventures." 
So  they  mounted  on  their  horses,  armed  at  all  sights, 
and  rode  into  a  forest,  and  so  into  a  deep  plain. 
And  the  weather  was  hot  about  noon,  and  Sir  Laun- 
celot had  great  desire  to  sleep.  Then  Sir  Lionel 
espied  a  great  apple-tree  that  stood  by  a  hedge,  and 
ho  said:  ''  Brother,  yonder  is  a  fa^ir  diadow,  —  there 


104  KING   AKTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

may  we  rest  us  and  our  horses."  "It  is  well  said," 
replied  Sir  Launcelot.  So  they  there  alighted,  and 
Sir  Launcelot  laid  him  down,  and  his  helm  under 
his  head,  and  soon  was  asleep  passing  fast.  And 
Sir  Lionel  waked  while  he  slept.  And  presently 
there  came  three  knights  riding  as  fast  as  ever  they 
might  ride,  and  there  followed  them  but  one  knight. 
And  Sir  Lionel  thought  he  never  saw  so  great  a 
knight  before.  So  within  a  while  this  great  knight 
overtook  one  of  those  knights,  and  smote  him  so 
that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  Then  he  rode  to  the 
second  knight  and  smote  him,  and  so  he  did  to  the 
third  knight.  Then  he  alighted  down,  and  bound 
all  the  three  knights  fast  with  their  own  bridles. 
When  Sir  Lionel  saw  him  do  thus,  he  thought  to 
assay  him,  and  made  him  ready  silently,  not  to 
awake  Sir  Launcelot,  and  rode  after  the  strong 
knight,  and  bade  him  turn.  And  the  other  smote 
Sir  Lionel  so  hard,  that  horse  and  man  fell  to  the 
earth ;  and  then  he  alighted  down,  and  bound  Sir 
Lionel,  and  threw  him  across  his  own  horse ;  and  so 
he  served  them  all  four,  and  rode  with  them  away  to 
his  own  castle.  And  when  he  came  there,  he  put 
them  in  a  deep  prison,  in  which  were  many  more 
knights  in  great  distress. 

Now  while  Sir  Launcelot  lay  under  the  apple-tree 
sleeping,  there  came  by  him  four  queens  of  great 
estate.  And  that  the  heat  should  not  grieve  them, 
there  rode  four  knights  about  them,  and  bare  a 
cloth  of  green  silk,  on  four  spears,  betwixt  them 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  105 

and  the  sun.  And  the  queens  rode  on  four  white 
mules. 

Thus  as  they  rode  they  heard  by  them  a  great 
horse  grimly  neigh.  Then  they  were  aware  of  a 
sleeping  knight,  that  lay  all  armed  under  an  apple- 
tree  ;  and  as  the  queens  looked  on  his  face,  they 
knew  it  was  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  began  to 
strive  for  that  knight,  and  each  one  said  she  would 
have  him  for  her  love.  "  We  will  not  strive,"  said 
Morgane  le  Fay,  that  was  King  Arthur's  sister, 
"  for  I  will  put  an  enchantment  upon  him,  that  he 
shall  not  wake  for  six  hours,  and  we  will  take  him 
away  to  my  castle ;  and  then  when  he  is  surely 
within  my  hold,  I  will  take  the  enchantment  from 
him,  and  then  let  him  choose  which  of  us  he  will 
have  for  his  love."  So  the  enchantment  was  cast 
upon  Sir  Launcelot.  And  then  they  laid  him  upon 
his  shield,  and  bare  him  so  on  horseback  between 
two  knights,  and  brought  him  unto  the  castle  and 
laid  him  in  a  chamber,  and  at  night  they  sent  him 
his  supper. 

And  on  the  morning  came  early  those  four  queens, 
richly  dight,  and  bade  him  good  morning,  and  he 
them  again.  "  Sir  knight,"  they  said,  ''  thou  must 
understand  thou  art  our  prisoner;  and  we  know 
thee  well,  that  thou  art  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake, 
King  Ban's  son,  and  that  thou  art  the  noblest 
knight  living.  And  we  know  well  that  there  can 
no  lady  have  thy  love  but  one,  and  that  is  Queen 
Guenever ;  and  now  thou  shalt  lose  her  for  ever, 


106  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

and  she  thee ;  and  therefore  it  behooveth  thee  now 
to  choose  one  of  us.  I  am  the  Queen  Morgane  le 
Fay,  and  here  is  the  Queen  of  North  Wales,  and  the 
Queen  of  Eastland,  and  the  Queen  of  the  Isles.  Now 
choose  one  of  us  which  thou  wilt  have,  for  if  thou 
choose  not,  in  this  prison  thou  shalt  die.''  "  This 
is  a  hard  case,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  ''  that  either  I 
must  die,  or  else  choose  one  of  you ;  yet  had  I  liever 
to  die  in  this  prison  with  worship,  than  to  have  one 
of  you  for  my  paramour,  for  ye  be  false  enchant- 
resses." "  Well,"  said  the  queens,  "  is  this  your 
answer,  that  ye  will  refuse  us  ?  "  "  Yea,  on  my  life 
it  is,"  said  Sir  Launcelot.  Then  they  departed, 
making  great  sorrow. 

Then  at  noon  came  a  damsel  unto  him  with  his 
dinner,  and  asked  him,  "  What  cheer  ?  "  "  Truly, 
fair  damsel,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "never  so  ill." 
"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  if  you  will  be  ruled  by  me,  I  will 
help  you  out  of  this  distress.  If  ye  will  promise  me 
to  help  my  father  on  Tuesday  next,  who  hath  made 
a  tournament  betwixt  him  and  the  king  of  North 
Wales ;  for  the  last  Tuesday  my  father  lost  the 
field.  "  Pair  maiden,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  tell 
me  what  is  your  father's  name,  and  then  will  I  give 
you  an  answer."  "  Sir  knight,"  she  said,  "  my 
father  is  King  Bagdemagus."  "  I  know  him  well," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "for  a  noble  king  and  a  good 
knight ;  and,  by  the  faith  of  my  body,  I  will  be 
ready  to  do  your  father  and  you  service  at  that 
day." 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  107 

So  she  departed,  and  came  on  the  next  morning 
early  and  found  him  ready,  and  brought  him  out  of 
twelve  locks,  and  brought  him  to  his  own  horse,  and 
lightly  he  saddled  him,  and  so  rode  forth. 

And  on  the  Tuesday  next  he  came  to  a  little  wood 
where  the  tournament  should  be.  And  there  were 
scaffolds  and  holds,  that  lords  and  ladies  might  look 
on,  and  give  the  prize.  Then  came  into  the  field 
the  king  of  North  Wales,  with  eightscore  helms, 
and  King  Bagdemagus  came  with  fourscore  helms. 
And  then  they  couched  their  spears,  and  came  to- 
gether with  a  great  dash,  and  there  were  overthrown 
at  the  first  encounter  twelve  of  King  Bagdemagus's 
party  and  six  of  the  king  of  North  Wales's  party, 
and  King  Bagdemagus's  party  had  the  worse. 

With  that  came  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and 
thrust  in  with  his  spear  in  the  thickest  of  the  press  ; 
and  he  smote  down  five  knights  ere  he  held  his  hand  ; 
and  he  smote  down  the  king  of  North  Wales,  and 
he  brake  his  thigh  in  that  fall.  And  then  the 
knights  of  the  king  of  North  Wales  would  just  no 
more ;  and  so  the  gree  was  given  to  King  Bagde- 
magus. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  forth  with  King  Bagde- 
magus unto  his  castle ;  and  there  he  had  passing 
good  cheer,  both  with  the  king  and  with  his  daugh- 
ter. And  on  the  morn  he  took  his  leave,  and  told 
the  king  he  would  go  and  seek  his  brother,  Sir  Lio- 
nel, that  went  from  him  when  he  slept.  So  he  de- 
parted, and  by  adventure  he  came  to  the  same  forest 


108  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

where  he  was  taken  sleeping.  And  in  the  highway- 
he  met  a  damsel  riding  on  a  white  palfrey,  and  they 
saluted  each  other.  "Fair  damsel,"  said  Sir  Laun- 
celot,  "  know  ye  in  this  country  any  adventures  ?  " 
"  Sir  knight,"  said  the  damsel,  "  here  are  adven- 
tures near  at  hand,  if  thou  durst  pursue  them." 
"  Why  should  I  not  prove  adventures  ? "  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "  since  for  that  cause  came  I  hither." 
"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  hereby  dwelleth  a  knight  that 
will  not  be  overmatched  for  any  man  I  know,  ex- 
cept thou  overmatch  him.  His  name  is  Sir  Tur- 
quine,  and,  as  I  understand,  he  is  a  deadly  enemy 
of  King  Arthur,  and  he  has  in  his  prison  good 
knights  of  Arthur's  court  threescore  and  more,  that 
he  hath  won  with  his  own  hands."  "Damsel," 
said  Launcelot,  "  I  pray  you  bring  me  unto  this 
knight."  So  she  told  him,  "Hereby,  within  this 
mile,  is  his  castle,  and  by  it  on  the  left  hand  is  a 
ford  for  horses  to  drink  of,  and  over  that  ford  there 
groweth  a  fair  tree,  and  on  that  tree  hang  many 
shields  that  good  knights  wielded  aforetime,  that 
are  now  prisoners  ;  and  on  the  tree  hangeth  a  basin 
of  copper  and  latten,  and  if  thou  strike  upon  that 
basin  thou  shalt  hear  tidings."  And  Sir  Launcelot 
departed,  and  rode  as  the  damsel  had  shown  him,  and 
shortly  he  came  to  the  ford,  and  the  tree  where  hung 
the  shields  and  the  basin.  And  among  the  shields 
he  saw  Sir  Lionel's  and  Sir  Hector's  shield,  besides 
many  others  of  knights  that  he  knew. 

Then  Sir  Launcelot  struck  on  the  basin  with  the 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  109 

butt  of  his  spear  ;  and  long  he  did  so,  but  he  saw  no 
man.  And  at  length  he  was  ware  of  a  great  knight 
that  drove  a  horse  before  him,  and  across  the  horse 
there  lay  an  armed  knight  bounden.  And  as  they 
came  near,  Sir  Launcelot  thought  he  should  know 
the  captive  knight.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  that  it 
was  Sir  Gaheris,  Sir  Gawain's  brother,  a  knight  of 
the  Table  Round.  "Now,  fair  knight,"  said  Sir 
Launcelot,  "  put  that  wounded  knight  off  the  horse, 
and  let  him  rest  awhile,  and  let  us  two  prove  our 
strength.  For,  as  it  is  told  me,  thou  hast  done 
great  despite  and  shame  unto  knights  of  the  Round 
Table,  therefore  now  defend  thee."  "  If  thou  be 
of  the  Table  Round,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  '^  I  defy 
thee  and  all  thy  fellowship."  "That  is  overmuch 
said,"  said  Sir  Launcelot. 

Then  they  put  their  spears  in  the  rests,  and  came 
together  with  their  horses  as  fast  as  they  might  rim. 
And  each  smote  the  other  in  the  middle  of  their 
shields,  so  that  their  horses  fell  under  them,  and  the 
knights  were  both  staggered ;  and  as  soon  as  they 
could  clear  their  horses,  they  drew  out  their  swords 
and  came  together  eagerly,  and  each  gave  the  other 
many  strong  strokes,  for  neither  shield  nor  harness 
might  withstand  their  strokes.  So  within  a  while 
both  had  grimly  wounds,  and  bled  grievously. 
Then  at  the  last  they  were  breathless  both,  and 
stood  leaning  upon  their  swords.  "  Now,  fellow," 
said  Sir  Turquine,  "  thou  art  the  stoutest  man  that 
ever  I  met  with,  and  best  breathed ;  and  so  be  it  thou 

10 


110  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

be  not  the  knight  that  I  hate  above  all  other  knights, 
the  knight  that  slew  my  brother,  Sir  Carados,  I  will 
gladly  accord  with  thee ;  and  for  thy  love  I  will  de- 
liver all  the  prisoners  that  I  have." 

"  "What  knight  is  he  that  thoii  hatest  so  above 
others  ?  "  "  Truly,"  said  Sir  Turquine,  ''  his  name 
is  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake."  "  I  am  Sir  Launce- 
lot  of  the  Lake,  King  Ban's  son  of  Benwick,  and 
very  knight  of  the  Table  Round ;  and  now  I  defy 
thee  do  thy  best."  "  Ah ! "  said  Sir  Turquine, 
"  Launcelot,  thou  art  to  me  the  most  welcome  that 
ever  was  knight ;  for  we  shall  never  part  till  the  one 
of  us  be  dead."  And  then  they  hurtled  togetlier 
like  two  wild  bulls,  rashing  and  lashing  with  their 
swords  and  shields,  so  that  sometimes  they  fell,  as  it 
were,  headlong.  Thus  they  fought  two  hours  and 
more,  till  the  ground  where  they  fought  was  all  be- 
purpled  with  blood. 

Then  at  the  last  Sir  Turquine  waxed  sore  faint, 
and  gave  somewhat  aback,  and  bare  his  shield  full 
low  for  weariness.  That  spied  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
leapt  then  upon  him  fiercely  as  a  lion,  and  took  him 
by  the  beaver  of  his  helmet,  and  drew  him  down  on 
his  knees.  And  he  rased  off  his  helm,  and  smote 
his  neck  in  sunder. 

And  Sir  Gaheris,  when  he  saw  Sir  Turquine  slain, 
said,  "  Fair  lord,  I  pray  you  tell  me  your  name,  for 
this  day  I  say  ye  are  the  best  knight  in  the  world, 
for  ye  have  slain  this  day  in  my  sight  the  mightiest 
man  and  the  best  knight  except  you  tliat  ever  I 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  Ill 

saw."  "  Sir,  my  name  is  Sir  Launcelot  du  Lac, 
that  ought  to  help  you  of  right  for  King  Arthur's 
sake,  and  in  especial  for  Sir  Gawain's  sake,  your 
own  dear  brother.  Now  I  pray  you,  that  ye  go  into 
yonder  castle,  and  set  free  all  the  prisoners  ye  find 
there,  for  I  am  sure  ye  shall  find  there  many  knights 
of  the  Table  Round,  and  especially  my  brother  Sir 
Lionel.  I  pray  you  greet  them  all  from  me,  and 
tell  them  I  bid  them  take  there  such  stuff  as  they 
find ;  and  tell  my  brother  to  go  unto  the  court  and 
abide  me  there,  for  by  the  feast  of  Pentecost  I  think 
to  be  there ;  but  at  this  time  I  may  not  stop,  for  I 
have  adventures  on  hand."  So  he  departed,  and  Sir 
Gaheris  rode  into  the  castle,  and  took  the  keys  from 
the  porter,  and  hastily  opened  the  prison  door  and 
let  out  all  the  prisoners.  There  was  Sir  Kay,  Sir 
Brandeles,  and  Sir  Galynde,  Sir  Bryan,  and  Sir  Al- 
yduke,  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir  Lionel,  and 
many  more.  And  when  they  saw  Sir  Gaheris,  they 
all  thanked  him,  for  they  thought,  because  he  was 
wounded,  that  he  had  slain  Sir  Turquine.  ''  Not 
so,"  said  Sir  Gaheris ;  ''  it  was  Sir  Laimcelot  that 
slew  him,  right  worshipfully ;  I  saw  it  with  mine 
eyes." 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  till  at  nightfall  he  came  to 
a  fair  castle,  and  therein  he  found  an  old  gentle- 
woman, who  lodged  him  with  good-will,  and  ther.. 
he  had  good  cheer  for  him  and  his  horse.  And 
when  time  was,  his  host  brought  him  to  a  fair 
chamber  over  the  gate  to  his  bed.     Then  Sir  Laun- 


112  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

celot  unarmed  him,  and  set  his  harness  by  him,  and 
went  to  bed,  and  anon  he  fell  asleep.  And  soon 
after,  there  came  one  on  horseback  and  knocked  at 
the  gate  in  great  haste ;  and  when  Sir  Laimcelot 
heard  this,  he  arose  and  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  saw  by  the  moonlight  three  knights  riding  after 
that  one  man,  and  all  three  lashed  on  him  with 
their  swords,  and  that  one  knight  turned  on  them 
knightly  again  and  defended  himself.  ''Truly," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  yonder  one  knight  will  I  help, 
for  it  is  shame  to  see  three  knights  on  one."  Then 
he  took  his  harness  and  went  out  at  the  window  by 
a  sheet  down  to  the  four  knights  ;  and  he  said  aloud, 
"  Turn  you  knights  unto  me,  and  leave  your  fighting 
with  that  knight."  Then  the  knights  left  Sir  Kay, 
for  it  was  he  they  were  upon,  and  turned  unto  Sir 
Launcelot,  and  struck  many  great  strokes  at  Sir 
Launcelot,  and  assailed  him  on  every  side.  Then 
Sir  Kay  addressed  him  to  help  Sir  Launcelot,  but 
he  said,  "Nay,  sir,  I  will  none  of  your  help ;  let  me 
alone  with  them."  So  Sir  Kay  suffered  him  to  do 
his  will,  and  stood  one  side.  And  within  six 
strokes.  Sir  Launcelot  had  stricken  them  down. 

Then  they  all  cried,  "  Sir  knight,  we  yield  us 
unto  you."  "  As  to  that,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  I 
will  not  take  your  yielding  unto  me.  If  so  be  ye 
will  yield  you  unto  Sir  Kay  the  Seneschal,  I  will 
save  your  lives,  but  else  not."  "Fair  knight," 
then  they  said,  "  we  will  do  as  thou  commandest 
us."     ''  Then   shall   ye,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  on 


,  LAUNCELOT    OF   THE    LAKE.  113 

Whitsunday  next,  go  unto  the  court  of  King  Ar- 
thur, and  there  shall  ye  yield  you  unto  Queen 
Guenever,  and  say  that  Sir  Kay  sent  you  thither  to 
be  her  prisoners.''  "  Sir,"  they  said,  ''  it  shall  be 
done,  by  the  faith  of  our  bodies  "  ;  and  then  they 
swore,  every  knight  upon  his  sword.  And  so  Sir 
Launcelot  suffered  them  to  depart. 

On  the  morn  Sir  Launcelot  rose  early  and  left  Sir 
Kay  sleeping ;  and  Sir  Launcelot  took  Sir  Kay's  ar- 
mor, and  his  shield,  and  armed  him,  and  went  to 
the  stable  and  took  his  horse,  and  so  he  departed. 
Then  soon  after  arose  Sir  Kay,  and  missed  Sir 
Launcelot.  And  then  he  espied  that  he  had  taken 
his  armor  and  his  horse.  "  Now,  by  my  faith,  I 
know  well,"  said  Sir  Kay,  "  that  he  will  grieve 
some  of  King  Arthur's  knights,  for  they  will  deem 
that  it  is  I,  and  will  be  bold  to  meet  him.  But  by 
cause  of  his  armor  I  am  sure  I  shall  ride  in  peace." 
Then  Sir  Kay  thanked  his  host  and  departed. 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  in  a  deep  forest,  and  there  he 
saw  four  knights,  under  an  oak,  and  they  were  of 
Arthur's  court.  There  was  Sir  Sagramour  le  De- 
sirus,  and  Hector  de  Marys,  and  Sir  Gawain,  and 
Sir  Uwaine.  As  they  spied  Sir  Launcelot,  they 
judged  by  his  arms  it  had  been  Sir  Kay.  "  Now,  by 
my  faith,"  said  Sir  Sagramour,  "  I  will  prove  Sir 
Kay's  might"  ;  and  got  his  spear  in  his  hand,  and 
came  towards  Sir  Launcelot.  Therewith  Sir  Laun- 
celot couched  his  spear  against  him,  and  smote  Sir 
Sagramour  so  sore  that  horse  and  man  fell  both  to 

10^ 


114:  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  earth.  Then  said  Sir  Hector,  "  Now  shall  ye 
see  what  I  may  do  with  him.'  But  he  fared  worse 
than  Sir  Sagramoiir,  for  Sir  Launcelot's  spear  went 
through  his  shoulder  and  bare  him  from  his  horse 
to  the  ground.  "  By  my  faith,"  said  Sir  Uwaine, 
"  yonder  is  a  strong  knight,  and  I  fear  he  hath  slain 
Sir  Kay,  and  taken  his  armor."  And  therewith  Sir 
Uwaine  took  his  spear  in  hand,  and  rode  toward 
Sir  Launcelot ;  and  Sir  Launcelot  met  him  on  the 
plain  and  gave  him  such  a  buifet  that  he  was  stag- 
gered, and  wist  not  where  he  was.  '  Now  see  I 
well,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  that  I  must  encounter 
with  that  knight."  Then  he  adjusted  his  shield, 
and  took  a  good  spear  in  his  hand,  and  Sir  Launce- 
lot knew  him  well.  Then  they  let  run  their  horses 
with  all  their  mights,  and  each  knight  smote  the 
other  in  the  middle  of  his  shield.  But  Sir  Gawain's 
spear  broke,  and  Sir  Launcelot  charged  so  sore  upon 
him  that  his  horse  fell  over  backward.  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  passed  by  smiling  with  himself,  and  he 
said,  "  Good  luck  be  with  him  that  made  this  spear, 
for  never  came  a  better  into  my  hand.'  Then  the 
four  knights  went  each  to  the  other  and  comforted 
one  another.  "  What  say  ye  to  this  adventure," 
said  Sir  Gawain,  "  that  one  spear  hath  felled  us  all 
four  ?  "  "I  dare  lay  my  head  it  is  Sir  Launcelot," 
said  Sir  Hector ;  "  I  know  it  by  his  riding." 

And  Sir  Launcelot  rode  through  many  strange 
countries,  till  by  fortune  he  came  to  a  fair  castle ; 
and  as  he  passed  beyond  the  castle,  he  thought  he 


LAUNCELOT    OF    THE    LAKE.  115 

heard  two  bells  ring.  And  then  he  perceived  how 
a  falcon  came  flying  over  his  head,  toward  a  high 
elm;  and  she  had  long  lunys*  about  her  feet,  and 
she  flew  unto  the  elm  to  take  her  perch,  and  the 
lunys  got  entangled  in  a  bough;  and  when  she 
would  have  taken  her  flight,  she  hung  by  the  legs 
fast,  and  Sir  Launcelot  saw  how  she  hung,  and  be- 
held the  fair  falcon  entangled,  and  he  was  sorry  for 
her.  Then  came  a  lady  out  of  the  castle  and  cried 
aloud,  ^'0  Launcelot,  Launcelot,  as  thou  art  the 
flower  of  all  knights,  help  me  to  get  my  hawk ;  for 
if  my  hawk  be  lost,  my  lord  will  slay  me,  he  is  so 
hasty."  "  What  is  your  lord's  name  ? "  said  Sir 
Launcelot.  "  His  name  is  Sir  Plielot,  a  knight  that 
belongeth  to  the  king  of  North  Wales."  ''Well, 
fair  lady,  since  ye  know  my  name,  and  require  me 
of  knighthood  to  help  you,  I  will  do  what  I  may  to 
get  your  hawk ;  and  yet  in  truth  I  am  an  ill  climber, 
and  the  tree  is  passing  high,  and  few  boughs  to 
help  me."  And  therewith  Sir  Launcelot  alighted 
and  tied  his  horse  to  the  tree,  and  prayed  the  lady 
to  unarm  him.  And  when  he  was  unarmed,  he  put 
off*  his  jerkin,  and  with  might  and  force  he  clomb 
up  to  the  falcon,  and  tied  the  lunys  to  a  rotten 
bough,  and  threw  the  hawk  down  with  it ;  and  the 
lady  got  the  hawk  in  her  hand.  Then  suddenly 
there  came  out  of  the  castle  her  husband  all  armed, 
and  with  his  naked  sword  in  his  hand,  and  said,  ''  0 

*  Lunys,  the  string  with  which  the  falcon  is  held. 


116  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Knight  Launcelot,  now  have  I  got  thee  as  I  would," 
and  stood  at  the  boll  of  the  tree  to  slay  him.  "  Ah, 
lady!  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "why  have  ye  betrayed 
me  ?  "  "  She  hath  done,"  said  Sir  Phelot,  "  but  as  I 
commanded  her ;  and  therefore  there  is  none  other 
way  but  thine  hour  is  come,  and  thou  must  die." 
"  That  were  shame  unto  thee,"  said  Sir  Launcelot ; 
"thou  an  armed  knight  to  slay  a  naked  man  by 
treason."  "  Thou  gettest  none  other  grace,"  said 
Sir  Phelot,  "  and  therefore  help  thyself  if  thou 
canst."  "  Alas !  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  ever  a 
knight  should  die  weaponless ! "  And  therewith 
he  turned  his  eyes  upward  and  downward;  and 
over  his  head  he  saw  a  big  bough  leafless,  and  lie 
brake  it  off  from  the  trunk.  And  then  he  came 
lower,  and  watched  how  his  own  horse  stood ;  and 
suddenly  he  leapt  on  the  further  side  of  his  horse 
from  the  knight.  Then  Sir  Phelot  lashed  at  him 
eagerly,  meaning  to  have  slain  him.  But  Sir  Laun- 
celot put  away  the  stroke,  with  the  big  bough,  and 
smote  Sir  Phelot  therewith  on  the  side  of  the  head, 
so  that  he  fell  down  in  a  swoon  to  the  ground. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  took  his  sword  out  of  his  hand 
and  struck  his  head  from  the  body.  Then  said  the 
lady,  "  Alas  !  why  hast  thou  slain  my  husband  ?  " 
"  I  am  not  the  cause,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  for 
with  falsehood  ye  would  have  slain  me,  and  now  it 
is  fallen  on  yourselves."  Thereupon  Sir  Launcelot 
got  all  his  armor,  and  put  it  upon  him  hastily,  for 
fear  of  more  resort,  for  the  knight's  castle  was  so 


LAUNCELOT    OF   THE    LAKE.  117 

nigli.  And  as  soon  as  lie  might,  he  took  his  horse 
and  departed,  and  thanked  God  he  had  escaped  that 
adventure. 

And  two  days  before  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  Sir 
Launcelot  came  home ;  and  the  king  and  all  the 
court  were  passing  glad  of  his  coming.  And  when 
Sir  Gawain,  Sir  Uwaine,  Sir  Sagramour,  and  Sir 
Hector  de  Marys  saw  Sir  Launcelot  in  Sir  Kay's 
armor,  then  they  wist  well  it  was  he  that  smote 
them  down,  all  with  one  spear.  Then  there  was 
laughing  and  merriment  among  them;  and  from 
time  to  time  came  all  the  knights  that  Sir  Turquine 
had  prisoners,  and  they  all  honored  and  worshipped 
Sir  Launcelot.  Then  Sir  Gaheris  said,  ''  I  saw  all 
the  battle  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,"  and  he 
told  King  Arthur  all  how  it  was.  Then  Sir  Kay 
told  the  king  how  Sir  Launcelot  had  rescued  him, 
and  how  he  ''  made  the  knights  yield  to  me,  and  not 
to  him."  And  there  they  were,  all  three,  and  con- 
firmed it  all.  ''  And,  by  my  faith,"  said  Sir  Kay, 
'^  because  Sir  Launcelot  took  my  harness  and  left 
me  his,  I  rode  in  peace,  and  no  man  would  have 
to  do  with  me." 

And  so  at  that  time  Sir  Launcelot  had  the  great- 
est name  of  any  knight  of  the  world,  and  most  was 
he  honored  of  high  and  low. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  ADVENTURE   OF  THE   CART. 

It  befell  in  the  month  of  May,  Queen  Guenever 
called  to  her  knights  of  the  Table  Round,  and  gave 
them  warning  that  early  upon  the  morrow  she 
would  ride  a  maying  into  the  woods  and  fields  be- 
side Westminster ;  "  and  I  warn  you  that  there  be 
none  of  you  but  he  be  well  horsed,  and  that  ye  all 
be  clothed  in  green,  either  silk  or  cloth ;  and  I  shall 
bring  with  me  ten  ladies,  and  every  knight  shall 
have  a  lady  behind  him,  and  every  knight  shall  have 
a  squire  and  two  yeomen,  and  all  well  horsed."  So 
they  made  them  ready ;  and  these  were  the  names 
of  the  knights :  Sir  Kay  the  Seneschal,  Sir  Agra- 
vaine.  Sir  Brandiles,  Sir  Sagramour  le  Desirus,  Sir 
Dodynas  le  Sauvage,  Sir  Ozanna,  Sir  Ladynas,  Sir 
Persant  of  Inde,  Sir  Ironside,  and  Sir  Pelleas  ;  and 
these  ten  knights  made  them  ready,  in  the  freshest 
manner,  to  ride  with  the  queen.  So  upon  the  morn 
they  took  their  horses  with  the  queen,  and  rode  a 
maying  in  woods  and  meadows,  as  it  pleased  them, 
in  great  joy  and  delight.     Now  there  was  a  knight 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART.         119 

named  Maleagans,  son  to  King  Brademagus,  who 
loved  Queen  Guenever  passing  well,  and  so  had  he 
done  long  and  many  years.  Now  this  knight.  Sir 
Maleagans,  learned  the  queen's  purpose,  and  that 
she  had  no  men  of  arms  with  her  but  the  ten  noble 
knights  all  arrayed  in  green  for  maying ;  so  he  pre- 
pared him  twenty  men  of  arms,  and  a  hundred  ar- 
chers, to  take  captive  the  queen  and  her  knights. 

So  when  the  queen  had  mayed,  and  all  were  be- 
decked with  herbs,  mosses,  and  flowers  in  the  best 
manner  and  freshest,  right  then  came  out  of  a  wood 
Sir  Maleagans  with  eightscore  men  well  harnessed, 
and  bade  the  queen  and  her  knights  yield  them  pris- 
oners. "  Traitor  knight,"  said  Queen  Guenever, 
"what  wilt  thou  do?  Wilt  thou  shame  thyself? 
Bethink  thee  how  thou  art  a  king's  son,  and  a 
knight  of  the  Table  Round,  and  how  thou  art  about 
to  dishonor  all  knighthood  and  thyself."  "  Be  it  as 
it  may,"  said  Sir  Maleagans,  "  know  you  well,  mad- 
am, I  have  loved  you  many  a  year,  and  never  till 
now  could  I  get  you  to  such  advantage  as  I  do  now ; 
and  therefore  I  will  take  you  as  I  find  you."  Then 
the  ten  knights  of  the  Round  Table  drew  their 
swords,  and  the  other  party  run  at  them  with  their 
spears,  and  the  ten  knights  manfully  abode  them, 
and  smote  away  their  spears.  Then  they  lashed  to- 
gether with  swords,  till  several  were  smitten  to  the 
earth.  So  when  the  queen  saw  her  knights  thus 
dolefully  oppressed,  and  needs  must  be  slain  at  the 
last,  then  for  pity  and  sorrow  she  cried,  "  Sir  Male- 


120  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

agans,  slay  not  my  noble  knights  and  I  will  go  with 
you,  upon  this  covenant,  that  they  be  led  with  me 
wheresoever  thou  leadest  me."  ''  Madame,"  said 
Maleagans,  "  for  your  sake  they  shall  be  led  with 
you  into  my  own  castle,  if  that  ye  will  be  ruled, 
and  ride  with  me."  Then  Sir  Maleagans  charged 
them  all  that  none  should  depart  from  the  queen, 
for  he  dreaded  lest  Sir  Launcelot  should  have 
knowledge  of  what  had  been  done. 

Then  the  queen  privily  called  unto  her  a  page  of 
her  chamber  that  was  swiftly  horsed,  to  whom  she 
said,  "  Go  thou  when  thou  seest  thy  time,  and  bear 
this  ring  unto  Sir  Launcelot,  and  pray  him  as  he 
loveth  me,  that  he  will  see  me,  and  rescue  me.  And 
spare  not  thy  horse,"  said  the  queen,  "  neither  for 
water  nor  for  land."  So  the  child  espied  his  time, 
and  lightly  he  took  his  horse  with  the  spurs,  and 
departed,  as  fast  as  he  might.  And  when  Sir  Male- 
agans saw  him  so  flee,  he  understood  that  it  was  by 
the  queen's  commandment  for  to  warn  Sir  Launce- 
lot. Then  they  that  were  best  horsed  chased  him, 
and  shot  at  him,  but  the  child  went  from  them  all. 
Then  Sir  Maleagans  said  to  the  queen,  "  Madam,  ye 
are  about  to  betray  me,  but  I  shall  arrange  for  Sir 
Launcelot  that  he  shall  not  come  lightly  at  you." 
Then  he  rode  with  her  and  them  all  to  his  castle,  in 
all  the  haste  that  they  might.  And  by  the  way  Sir 
Maleagans  laid  in  ambush  the  best  archers  that  he 
had,  to  wait  for  Sir  Launcelot.  And  the  child  came 
to  Westminster,  and  found  Sir  Launcelot,  and  told 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART.         121 

his  message,  and  delivered  him  the  queen's  ring. 
"  Alas !  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  ''  now  am  I  shamed  for 
ever,  unless  I  may  rescue  that  noble  lady."  Then 
eagerly  he  asked  his  armor,  and  put  it  on  hun,  and 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  as  fast  as  he  might ;  and 
men  say  he  took  the  water  at  Westminster  Bridge, 
and  made  his  horse  swim  over  Thames  unto  Lam- 
beth. Then  withm  a  while  he  came  to  a  wood, 
where  was  a  narrow  way;  and  there  the  archers 
were  laid  in  ambush.  And  they  shot  at  him,  and 
smote  his  horse,  so  that  he  fell.  Then  Sir  Launce- 
lot  left  his  horse  and  went  on  foot,  but  there  lay  so 
many  ditches  and  hedges  betwixt  tlie  archers  and 
him  that  he  might  not  meddle  with  them.  ''  Alas  ! 
for  shame,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "•  that  ever  one 
knight  should  betray  another !  but  it  is  an  old  saw, 
a  good  man  is  never  in  danger,  but  when  he  is  in 
danger  of  a  coward."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  went 
awhile,  and  he  was  exceedingly  cumbered  by  his 
armor,  his  shield,  and  his  spear,  and  all  that  be- 
longed to  him.  Then  by  chance  there  came  by  him 
a  cart  that  came  thither  to  fetch  wood. 

Now  at  this  time  carts  were  little  used  except  for 
carrying  oifal,  and  for  conveying  criminals  to  execu- 
tion. But  Sir  Launcelot  took  no  thought  of  any- 
thing but  the  necessity  of  haste  for  the  purpose  of 
rescuing  the  queen ;  so  he  demanded  of  the  carter 
that  he  should  take  him  in,  and  convey  him  as 
speedily  as  possible  for  a  liberal  reward.  The  car- 
ter consented,  and  Sir  Launcelot  placed  himself  in 
11 


122  KINO    ARTHUR    AND    UIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  cart,  and  only  lamented  that  with  mnch  jolting 
he  made  but  little  progress.  Then  it  happened  Sir 
Gawain  passed  by,  and  seeing  an  armed  knight  trav- 
elling in  that  unusual  way,  he  drew  near  to  see  who 
it  might  be.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  told  him  how  the 
queen  had  been  carried  off,  and  how,  in  hastening  to 
her  rescue,  his  horse  had  been  disabled,  and  he  had 
been  compelled  to  avail  himself  of  the  cart  rather 
than  give  up  his  enterprise.  Then  Sir  Gawain  said, 
"  Surely  it  is  unworthy  of  a  knight  to  travel  in  such 
sort "  ;  but  Sir  Launcelot  heeded  him  not. 

At  nightfall  they  arrived  at  a  castle,  and  the  lady 
thereof  came  out  at  the  head  of  her  damsels  to  wel- 
come Sir  Gawain.  But  to  admit  his  companion, 
whom  she  supposed  to  be  a  criminal,  or  at  least  a 
prisoner,  it  pleased  her  not ;  however,  to  oblige  Sir 
Gawain,  she  consented.  At  supper  Sir  Launcelot 
came  near  being  consigned  to  the  kitchen,  and  was 
only  admitted  to  the  lady's  table  at  the  earnest  soli- 
citation of  Sir  Gawain.  Neither  would  the  damsels 
prepare  a  bed  for  him.  He  seized  the  first  he  found 
unoccupied,  and  was  left  undisturbed. 

Next  morning  he  saw  from  the  turrets  of  the  cas- 
tle a  train  accompanying  a  lady,  whom  he  imagined 
to  be  the  queen.  Sir  Gawain  thought  it  might  be 
so,  and  became  equally  eager  to  depart.  The  lady 
of  the  castle  supplied  Sir  Launcelot  with  a  horse,  and 
they  traversed  the  plain  at  full  speed.  They  learned 
from  some  travellers  whom  they  met,  that  there  were 
two  roads  which  led  to  the  castle  of  Sir  ^laleagans. 


Sir  Lauucelot,  ridiag  in  a  cart,  is    viewed  with  suspiciou  by  tlie  ladies.      Sir. 


Gawain  iufcercedes  for  him. 


P«45«  122. 


01  riis^^ 

[TJiri7EESIT7] 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART.         123 

Here  therefore  the  friends  separated.  Sir  Launce- 
lot  found  his  way  beset  with  obstacles,  which  he  en- 
countered successfiillj,  but  not  without  much  loss 
of  time.  As  evening  approached,  he  was  met  by  a 
young  and  sportive  damsel,  who  gayly  proposed  to 
him  a  supper  at  her  castle.  The  knight,  who  was 
hungry  and  weary,  accepted  the  offer,  though  with 
no  very  good  grace.  He  followed  the  lady  to  her 
castle,  and  eat  voraciously  of  her  supper,  but  was 
quite  impenetrable  to  all  her  amorous  advances. 
Suddenly  the  scene  changed,  and  he  was  assailed 
by  six  furious  ruffians,  whom  he  dealt  with  so  vig- 
orously that  most  of  them  were  speedily  disabled, 
when  again  there  was  a  change,  and  he  found  him- 
self alone  with  his  fair  hostess,  wlio  informed  him 
that  she  was  none  other  than  his  guardian  fairy, 
who  had  but  subjected  him  to  tests  of  his  courage 
and  fidelity.  The  next  day  the  fairy  brought  him 
on  his  road,  and  before  parting  gave  him  a  ring, 
which  she  told  him  would  by  its  changes  of  color 
disclose  to  him  all  enchantments,  and  enable  him  to 
subdue  them. 

Sir  Launcelot  pursued  his  journey,  without  being 
much  incommoded  except  by  the  taunts  of  travel- 
lers, who  all  seemed  to  have  learned,  by  some 
means,  his  disgraceful  drive  in  the  cart.  One, 
more  insolent  than  the  rest,  had  the  audacity  to 
interrupt  him  during  dinner,  and  even  to  risk  a  bat- 
tle in  support  of  his  pleasantry.  Launcelot,  after 
an  easy  victory,  only  doomed  him  to  be  carted  in 
liis  turn. 


124  KING    AKTIIUU    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

At  night  he  was  received  at  another  castle,  with 
great  apparent  hosiDitality,  but  found  himself  in  the 
morning  in  a  dungeon,  and  loaded  with  chains. 
Consulting  his  ring,  and  finding  that  this  was  an 
enchantment,  he  burst  his  chains,  seized  his  armor 
in  spite  of  the  visionary  monsters  Avho  attempted  to 
defend  it,  broke  open  the  gates  of  the  tower,  and 
continued  liis  journey.  At  length  his  j^rogress  was 
checked  bj  a  wide  and  rapid  torrent,  which  could 
only  be  passed  on  a  narrow  bridge,  on  which  a  false 
step  would  prove  his  destruction.  Launcelot,  lead- 
ing his  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  making  him  swim 
by  his  side,  passed  over  the  bridge,  and  was  attacked 
as  soon  as  he  reached  the  bank,  by  a  lion  and  a 
leopard,  both  of  which  he  slew,  and  then,  exhausted 
and  bleeding,  seated  himself  on  the  grass,  and  en- 
deavored to  bind  up  his  wounds,  when  he  was 
accosted  by  Brademagus,  the  father  of  Maleagans, 
whose  castle  was  then  in  sight,  and  at  no  great  dis- 
tance. This  king,  no  less  courteous  than  his  son 
was  haughty  and  insolent,  after  complimenting  Sir 
Launcelot  on  the  valor  and  skill  he  had  displayed 
in  the  perils  of  the  bridge  and  the  wild  beasts, 
offered  him  his  assistance,  and  informed  him  that 
the  queen  was  safe  in  his  castle,  but  could  only  be 
rescued  by  encountering  Maleagans.  Launcelot 
demanded  the  battle  for  the  next  day,  and  accord- 
ingly it  took  place,  at  the  foot  of  the  tower,  and 
under  the  eyes  of  the  fair  captive.  Launcelot  was 
enfeebled  by  his  wounds,  and  fought  not  witli  his 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  CART.         125 

usual  spirit,  and  the  contest  for  a  time  was  doubt- 
ful; till  Giienever  exclaimed, '' Ah,  Launcelot !  my 
knight,  truly  have  I  been  told  that  thou  art  no 
longer  worthy  of  me  !  "  These  words  instantly  re-' 
vived  the  drooping  knight ;  he  resumed  at  once  his 
usual  superiority,  and  soon  laid  at  his  feet  his 
haughty  adversary. 

He  was  on  the  point  of  sacrificing  him  to  his  re- 
sentment, when  Guenever,  moved  by  the  entreaties 
of  Brademagus,  ordered  him  to  withhold  the  blow, 
and  he  obeyed.  The  castle  and  its  prisoners  were 
now  at  his  disposal.  Launcelot  hastened  to  the 
apartment  of  the  queen,  threw  himself  at  her  feet, 
and  was  about  to  kiss  her  hand,  when  she  ex- 
claimed, ''  Ah,  Launcelot !  why  do  I  see  thee 
again,  yet  feel  thee  to  be  no  longer  worthy  of  me, 
after  having  been  disgracefully  drawn   about  the 

country  in  a "     She  had  not  time  to  finish  the 

phrase,  for  her  lover  suddenly  started  from  her,  and, 
bitterly  lamenting  that  he  had  incurred  the  displeas- 
ure of  his  sovereign  lady,  rushed  out  of  the  castle, 
threw  his  sword  and  his  shield  to  the  right  and  left, 
ran  furiously  into  the  woods,  and  disappeared. 

It  seems  that  the  story  of  the  abominable  cart, 
which  haunted  Launcelot  at  every  step,  had  reached 
the  ears  of  Sir  Kay,  who  had  told  it  to  the  queen,  as 
a  proof  that  her  knight  must  have  been  dishonored. 
But  Guenever  had  full  leisure  to  repent  the  haste 
with  which  she  had  given  credit  to  the  tale.  Three 
days  elapsed,  during  which  Launcelot  wandered 
11* 


126  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

without  knowing  where  he  went,  till  at  last  he  be- 
gan to  reflect  that  his  mistress  had  doubtless  been 
deceived  by  misrepresentation,  and  that  it  was  his 
*duty  to  set  her  right.  He  therefore  returned,  com- 
pelled Maleagans  to  release  his  prisoners,  and,  taking 
the  road  by  which  they  expected  the  arrival  of  Sir 
Gawain,  had  the  satisfaction  of  meeting  him  the 
next  day ;  after  which  the  whole  company  proceeded 
gayly  towards  Camelot. 


CHAPTER     X. 

THE  LADY  OF  SHALOTT. 

King  Arthur  proclaimed  a  solemn  tournament 
to  be  held  at  Winchester.  The  king,  not  less  im- 
patient than  his  knights  for  this  festival,  set  off  some 
days  before  to  superintend  the  preparations,  leaving 
the  queen  with  her  court  at  Camelot.  Sir  Launce- 
lot,  under  pretence  of  indisposition,  remained  behind 
also.  His  intention  was  to  attend  the  tournament 
in  disguise  ;  and  having  communicated  his  project  to 
Guenever,  he  mounted  his  horse,  set  off  without  any 
attendant,  and,  counterfeiting  the  feebleness  of  age, 
took  the  most  unfrequented  road  to  Winchester, 
and  passed  unnoticed  as  an  old  knight  who  was 
going  to  be  a  spectator  of  the  sports.  Even  Arthur 
and  Gawain,  who  happened  to  behold  him  from  the 
windows  of  a  castle  under  which  he  passed,  were  the 
dupes  of  his  disguise.  But  an  accident  betrayed 
him.  His  horse  happened  to  stumble,  and  the  hero, 
forgetting  for  a  moment  his  assumed  character,  re- 
covered the  animal  with  a  strength  and  agility  so 
peculiar  to  himself,  that  tliey  instantly  recognized 


128  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

the  illimitable  Launcelot.  They  suffered  him,  how- 
ever, to  proceed  on  his  journey  without  interruption, 
convinced  that  his  extraordinary  feats  of  arms  must 
discover  him  at  the  approaching  festival. 

In  the  evening  Launcelot  was  magnificently  en- 
tertained as  a  stranger  knight  at  the  neighboring 
castle  of  Shalott.  The  lord  of  this  castle  had  a 
daughter  of  exquisite  beauty,  and  two  sons  lately 
received  into  the  order  of  knighthood,  one  of  whom 
was  at  that  time  ill  in  bed,  and  thereby  prevented 
from  attending  the  tournament,  for  which  both 
brothers  had  long  made  preparations.  Launcelot 
offered  to  attend  the  other,  if  he  were  permitted  to 
borrow  the  armor  of  the  invalid,  and  the  lord  of 
Shalott,  without  knowing  the  name  of  his  guest, 
being  satisfied  from  his  appearance  that  his  son 
could  not  have  a  better  assistant  in  arms,  most 
thankfully  accepted  the  offer.)  In  the  mean  time 
the  young  lady,  who  had  been  much  struck  by  the 
first  appearance  of  the  stranger  kniglit,  continued  to 
survey  him  with  increased  attention,  and,  before  the 
conclusion  of  supper,  became  so  deeply  enamored  of 
jiim,  that,  after  frequent  changes  of  color,  and  other 
symptoms  which  Sir  Launcelot  could  not  possibly 
mistake,  she  was  obliged  to  retire  to  her  chamber, 
and  seek  relief  in  tears,  i  Sir  Launcelot  hastened  to 
convey  to  her,  by  means  of  her  brother,  the  infor- 
mation that  his  heart  was  already  disposed  of,  but 
that  it  would  be  his  pride  and  pleasure  to  act  as  her 
knight  at  the  approaching  tournament.     The  lady, 


THE    LADY    OF    SHALOTT.  129 

obliged  to  bo  satisfied  with  that  courtesy,  presented 
him  her  scarf  to  be  \Yorn  at  the  tournament. 

Launcelot  set  off  in  the  morning  with  the  young 
knight,  who,  on  their  approaching  Winchester,  car- 
ried him  to  the  castle  of  a  lady,  sister  to  the  lord  of 
Shalott,  by  whom  they  were  hospitably  entertained. 
The  next  day  they  put  on  their  armor,  which  was 
perfectly  plain,  and  without  any  device,  as  was 
usual  to  youths  during  the  first  year  of  knighthood, 
their  shields  being  only  painted  red,  as  some  color 
was  necessary  to  enable  them  to  be  recognized  by 
their  attendants.  Launcelot  wore  on  his  crest  the 
scarf  of  the  maid  of  Shalott,  and,  thus  equipped, 
proceeded  to  the  tournament,  where  the  knights 
were  divided  into  two  companies,  the  one  command- 
ed by  Sir  Galehaut,  the  other  by  King  Arthur. 
Having  surveyed  the  combat  for  a  short  time  from 
without  the  lists,  and  observed  that  Sir  Galehaut's 
party  began  to  give  way,  they  joined  the  press  and 
attacked  the  royal  knights,  the  young  man  choosing 
such  adversaries  as  were  suited  to  his  strength,  while 
his  companion  selected  the  principal  champions  of 
the  Round  Table,  and  successively  overthrew  Ga- 
wain,  Bohort,  and  Lionel.  The  astonishment  of  the 
spectators  was  extreme,  for  it  was  thought  that  no 
one  but  Launcelot  could  possess  such  invincible 
force  ;  yet  the  favor  on  his  crest  seemed  to  preclude 
the  possibility  of  his  being  thus  disguised,  for  Laun- 
celot had  never  been  known  to  wear  the  badge  of 
any  but  his  sovereign  lady.     At  length  Sir  Hector, 


130  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Launcelot's  brother,  engaged  him,  and,  after  a  dread- 
ful combat,  wounded  him  dangerously  in  the  head, 
but  was  himself  completely  stunned  by  a  blow  on 
the  helmet,  and  felled  to  the  ground  ;  after  -which 
the  conqueror  rode  off  at  full  speed,  attended  by  his 
companion. 

They  returned  to  the  castle  of  Shalott,  where 
Launcelot  was  attended  with  the  greatest  care  by 
the  good  earl,  by  his  two  sons,  and,  above  all,  by  his 
fair  daughter,  whose  medical  skill  probably  much 
hastened  the  period  of  his  recovery.  His  health 
was  almost  completely  restored,  when  Sir  Hector, 
Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Lionel,  who,  after  the  return  of 
the  court  to  Camelot,  had  undertaken  the  quest  of 
their  relation,  discovered  him  walking  on  the  walls 
of  the  castle.  Their  meeting  was  very  joyful ;  they 
passed  three  days  in  the  castle  amidst  constant  fes- 
tivities, and  bantered  each  other  on  the  events  of 
the  tournament.  Launcelot,  though  he  began  by 
vowing  vengeance  against  the  author  of  his  wound, 
yet  ended  by  declaring  that  he  felt  rewarded  for  the 
pain  by  the  pride  he  took  in  witnessing  his  brother's 
extraordinary  prowess.  He  then  dismissed  them 
with  a  message  to  the  queen,  promising  to  follow 
immediately,  it  being  necessary  that  he  should  first 
take  a  formal  leave  of  his  kind  hosts,  as  well  as  of 
the  fair  maid  of  Shalott. 

The  young  lady,  after  vainly  attempting  to  detain 
him  by  her  tears  and  solicitations,  saw  him  depart 
without  leaving  her  any  ground  for  hope. 


THE    LADY    OF    SHALOTT.  131 

It  was  early  summer  when  the  tournament  took 
place  ;  but  some  months  had  passed  since  Launce- 
lot's  departure,  and  winter  was  now  near  at  hand. 
The  health  and  strength  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had 
gradually  sunk,  and  she  felt  that  she  could  not  live 
apart  from  the  object  of  her  affections.  She  left  the 
castle,  and,  descending  to  the  river's  brink,  placed 
herself  in  a  boat,  which  she  loosed  from  its  moor- 
ings, and  suffered  to  bear  her  down  the  current 
toward  Camelot. 

One  morning,  as  Arthur  and  Sir  Lionel  looked 
from  the  window  of  the  tower,  the  walls  of  which 
were  washed  by  a  river,  they  descried  a  boat  richly 
ornamented,  and  covered  with  an  awning  of  cloth 
of  gold,  which  appeared  to  be  floating  down  the 
r^  stream  without  any  human  guidance.  It  struck  the 
shore  while  they  watched  it,  and  they  hastened  down 
to  examine  it.  Beneath  the  awning  they  discovered 
the  dead  body  of  a  beautiful  woman,  in  whose  feat- 
ures Sir  Lionel  easily  recognized  the  lovely  maid  of 
Shalott.  Pursuing  their  search,  they  discovered  a 
purse  richly  embroidered  with  gold  and  jewels,  and 
within  the  purse  a  letter,  which  Arthur  opened,  and 
found  addressed  to  himself  and  all  the  knights  of 
the  Round  Table,  stating  that  Launcelot  of  the  Lake, 
the  most  accomplished  of  knights  and  most  beauti- 
ful of  men,  but  at  the  same  time  the  most  cruel  and 
inflexible,  had  by  his  rigor  produced  the  death  of 
the  wretched  maiden,  whose  love  was  no  less  invin- 
cible than  his  cruelty.     The  king  immediately  gave 


/ 


132  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

orders  for  the  interment  of  the  lady,  with  all  the 
honors  suited  to  her  rank,  at  the  same  time  explain- 
ing to  the  knights  the  history  of  her  affection  for 
Launcelot,  which  moved  the  compassion  and  regret 
of  all. 


Tennyson  has  chosen  the  story  of  the  Lady  of 
Shalott  for  the  subject  of  a  poem.  The  catastrophe 
is  told  thus  :  — 

"  Under  tower  and  balconv, 
By  garden-wall  and  gallery, 
A  gleaming  shape  she  floated  "by, 
A  corse  between  the  houses  high, 

Silent  into  Camelot. 
Out  upon  the  wharfs  they  came, 
Knight  and  burgher,  lord  and  dame, 
And  round  the  prow  they  read  her  name, 

'  The  Lady  of  Shalott.' 

"  Who  is  this  ?  and  what  is  here  ? 
And  in  the  lighted  palace  near 
Died  the  sound  of  royal  cheer ; 
And  they  crossed  themselves  for  fear, 

All  the  knights  at  Camelot. 
But  Launcelot  mused  a  little  space  ; 
He  said,  '  She  has  a  lovely  face  ; 
God  in  his  mercy  lend  her  grace, 

The  Lady  of  Shalott.'  " 


CHAPTER     XI. 

QUEEN   GUENEVER^S  PEKIL. 

It  happened  at  this  time  that  Queen  Guenevcr 
was  thrown  into  great  2)eril  of  her  life.  A  certain 
squire  who  was  in  her  immediate  service,  having 
some  cause  of  animosity  to  Sir  Gawain,  determined 
to  destroy  him  by  poison  at  a  public  entertainment. 
For  this  purpose  he  concealed  the  poison  in  an  apple 
of  fine  appearance,  which  he  placed  on  the  top  of 
several  others,  and  put  the  dish  before  the  queen, 
hoping  that,  as  Sir  Gawain  was  the  knight  of  great- 
est dignity,  she  would  present  the  apple  to  him. 
But  it  happened  that  a  Scottish  knight  of  high  dis- 
tinction, who  arrived  on  that  day,  was  seated  next 
to  the  queen,  and  to  him  as  a  stranger  she  presented 
the  apple,  which  he  had  no  sooner  eaten  than  he 
was  seized  with  dreadful  pain,  and  fell  senseless. 
The  whole  court  was  of  course  thrown  into  confu- 
sion ;  the  knights  rose  from  table,  darting  looks  of 
indignation  at  the  wretched  queen,  whose  tears  and 
protestations  were  unable  to  remove  their  suspicions. 
In  spite  of  all  that  could  be  done  the  knight  died, 


134  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

and  nothing  remained  but  to  order  a  magnificent 
funeral  and  monument  for  him,  which  was  done. 

Some  time  after,  Sir  Mador,  brother  of  the  mur- 
dered knight,  arrived  at  Arthur's  court  in  quest  of 
him.  While  hunting  in  the  forest  he  by  chance 
came  to  the  spot  where  the  monument  was  erected, 
read  the  inscription,  and  returned  to  court  deter- 
mined on  immediate  and  signal  yengeance.  He 
rode  into  the  hall,  loudly  accused  the  queen  of  trea- 
son, and  insisted  on  her  being  given  up  to  punish- 
ment, unless  she  should,  find,  by  a  certain  day,  a 
knight  hardy  enough  to  risk  his  life  in  support  of 
her  innocence.  Arthur,  powerful  as  he  was,  did 
not  dare  to  deny  the  appeal,  but  was  compelled, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  to  accept  it,  and  Mador  sternly 
took  his  departure,  leaving  the  royal  couple  plunged 
in  terror  and  anxiety. 

During  all  this  time  Launcelot  was  absent,  and 
no  one  knew  where  he  was.  He  had  fled  in  anger 
from  Mis  fair  mistress,  upon  being  reproached  by  her 
with  his  passion  for  the  Lady  of  Shalott,  which  she 
had  hastily  inferred  from  his  wearing  her  scarf  at 
the  tournament.  He  took  up  his  abode  with  a  her- 
mit in  the  forest,  and  resolved  to  think  no  more  of 
the  cruel  beauty,  whose  conduct  he  thought  must 
flow  from  a  wish  to  get  rid  of  liim.  Yet  calm  re- 
flection had  somewhat  cooled  his  indignation,  and 
he  had  begun  to  wish,  though  hardly  able  to  hope, 
for  a  reconciliation,  when  the  news  of  Sir  Mador' s 
challenge  fortunately  reached  his  ears.     The  Intel- 


QUEEN    GUENEVEK's    PERIL.  135 

ligence  revived  his  spirits,  and  he  began  to  prepare 
with  the  utmost  cheerfuhiess  for  a  contest  which,  if 
successful,  would  insure  him  at  once  the  affection 
of  his  mistress  and  the  gratitude  of  his  sovereign. 

The  sad  fate  of  the  Lady  of  Shalott  had  ere  this 
completely  acquitted  Launcelot  in  tlie  queen's  mind 
of  all  suspicion  of  his  fidelity,  and  she  lamented  most 
grievously  her  foolish  quarrel  with  him,  which  now, 
at  her  time  of  need,  deprived  her  of  her  most  efficient 
champion. 

As  the  day  appointed  by  Sir  Mador  was  fast  ap- 
proaching, it  became  necessary  that  she  should  pro- 
cure a  champion  for  her  defence  ;  and  slie  succes- 
sively adjured  Sir  Hector,  Sir  Lionel,  Sir  Bohort, 
and  Sir  Gawain  to  imdertake  the  battle.  She  fell 
on  her  knees  before  them,  called  Heaven  to  witness 
lier  innocence  of  the  crime  alleged  against  her,  but 
was  sternly  answered  by  all  that  they  could  not  figiit 
to  maintain  the  innocence  of  one  whose  act,  and  tlie 
fatal  consequences  of  it,  they  had  seen  with  their 
own  eyes.  She  retired,  therefore,  dejected  and  dis- 
consolate ;  but  the  sight  of  the  fatal  pile  on  which, 
if  guilty,  she  was  doomed  to  be  burned,  exciting  her 
to  fresh  effort,  she  again  repaired  to  Sir  Bohort, 
threw  herself  at  his  feet,  and,  piteously  calling  on 
him  for  mercy,  fell  into  a  swoon.  The  brave  knight 
was  not  proof  against  this.  He  raised  her  up,  and 
hastily  promised  that  he  would  undertake  her  cause, 
if  no  other  or  better  champion  should  present  him- 
self.    He  then  summoned  his  friends,  and  told  them 


136  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

his  resolution ;  and  as  a  mortal  combat  with  Sir 
Mador  was  a  most  fearful  enterprise,  they  agreed  to 
accompany  him  in  the  morning  to  the  hermitage  in 
the  forest,  where  he  proposed  to  receive  absolution 
from  the  hermit,  and  to  make  his  peace  with  Ilcav- 
en,  before  he  entered  the  lists.  As  they  approached 
the  hermitage,  they  espied  a  knight  riding  in  the 
forest,  whom  they  at  once  recognized  as  Sir  Launce- 
lot.  Overjoyed  at  the  meeting,  they  quickly,  in 
answer  to  his  questions,  confirmed  the  news  of  the 
queen's  imminent  danger,  and  received  his  instruc- 
tions to  return  to  court,  to  comfort  her  as  well  as 
they  could,  but  to  say  nothing  of  his  intention  of 
undertaking  her  defence,  which  he  meant  to  do  in 
the  character  of  an  unknown  adventurer. 

On  their  return  to  the  castle  they  found  that  mass 
was  finished,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  speak  to  tlio 
queen  before  they  were  summoned  into  the  hall  to 
dinner.  A  general  gloom  was  spread  over  the  coun- 
tenances of  all  the  guests,  xirthur  himself  was 
unable  to  conceal  his  dejection,  and  the  wretched 
Guenever,  motionless  and  bathed  in  tears,  sat  in 
trembling  expectation  of  Sir  Mador' s  appearance. 
Nor  was  it  long  ere  he  stalked  into  the  hall,  and 
with  a  voice  of  thunder,  rendered  more  impressive 
by  the  general  silence,  demanded  instant  justice  on 
the  guilty  party.  Arthur  replied  Avith  dignity,  that 
little  of  the  day  was  yet  spent,  and  that  perhaps  a 
champion  might  yet  be  found  capable  of  satisfying 
his  tliirst  for  battle.      Sir  Bohort  now  rose  from 


QUEEN    GUENEVER's    PERIL.  137 

table,  and,  shortly  returning  in  complete  armor,  re- 
sumed his  place,  after  receiving  the  embraces  and 
thanks  of  the  king,  who  now  began  to  resume  some 
degree  of  confidence.  Sir  Mador,  growing  impa- 
tient, again  repeated  his  denimciations  of  vengeance, 
and  insisted  that  the  combat  should  no  longer  be 
postponed. 

In  the  height  of  the  debate  there  came  riding  into 
the  hall  a  knight  mounted  on  a  black  steed,  and  clad 
in  black  armor,  with  his  visor  down,,  and  lance  in 
hand.  "  Sir,"  said  the  king,  "  is  it  your  will  to 
alight  and  partake  of  our  cheer  ? "  "  Nay,  Sir," 
he  replied ;  "  I  come  to  save  a  lady's  life.  The 
queen  hath  ill  bestowed  her  favors,  and  honored 
many  a  knight,  that  in  her  hour  of  need  she  should 
have  none  to  take  her  part.  Thou  that  darest  ac- 
cuse her  of  treachery  stand  forth,  for  to-day  shalt 
thou  need  all  thy  might." 

Sir  Mador,  though  surprised,  was  not  appalled  by 
the  stern  challenge  and  formidable  appearance  of 
his  antagonist,  but  prepared  for  the  encounter;  At 
the  first  shock  both  were  unhorsed.  They  then 
drew  their  swords,  and  commenced  a  combat  which 
lasted  from  noon  till  evening,  when  Sir  Mador, 
whose  strength  began  to  fail,  was  felled  to  the 
ground  by  Launcelot,  and  compelled  to  sue  for 
mercy.  The  victor,  whose  arm  was  already  raised 
to  terminate  the  life  of  his  opponent,  instantly 
dropped  his  sword,  courteously  lifted  up  the  faint- 
ing Sir  Mador,  frankly  confos^jing  tliat  he  had  never 


138  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

before  encountered  so  formidable  an  enemy.  The 
other,  with  similar  conrtesj,  solemnly  renounced  all 
farther  projects  of  vengeance  for  his  brother's  death ; 
and  the  two  knights,  now  become  fast  friends,  em- 
braced each  other  with  the  greatest  cordiality.  In 
the  mean  time  Arthur,  having  recognized  Sir  Lauii- 
celot,  whose  helmet  was  now  unlaced,  rushed  down 
into  the  lists,  followed  by  all  his  knights,  to  welcome 
and  thank  his  deliverer.  Guenever  swooned  with 
joy,  and  the  place  of  combat  suddenly  exhibited  a 
scene  of  the  most  tumultuous  delight. 

The  general  satisfaction  was  still  further  increased 
by  the  discovery  of  the  real  culprit.  Having  acci- 
dentally incurred  some  suspicion,  he  confessed  his 
crime,  and  was  publicly  punished  in  the  presence  of 
Sir  Mador. 

The  court  now  returned  to  the  castle,  which,  with 
the  title  of  ''La  Joyeuse  Garde "  bestowed  upon 
it  in  memory  of  the  happy  event,  was  conferred  on 
Sir  Launcelot  by  Arthur,  as  a  memorial  of  his 
gratitude. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

TRISTRAM   AND    ISOUDE. 

Meliadus  was  king  of  Leonoisy  or  Lionesse,  a 
country  famous  in  the  annals  of  romance,  which 
adjoined  the  kingdom  of  Cornwall,  but  has  now  dis- 
appeared from  the  map,  having  been,  it  is  said,  over- 
whelmed by  the  ocean.  Meliadus  was  married  to 
Isabella,  sister  of  Mark,  king  of  Cornwall.  A  fairy 
fell  in  love  with  him,  and  drew  him  away  by  en- 
chantment while  he  was  engaged  in  hunting.  His 
queen  set  out  in  quest  of  him,  but  was  taken  ill  on 
her  journey,  and  died,  leaving  an  infant  son,  whom, 
from  the  melancholy  circumstances  of  his  birth,  she 
called  Tristram. 

Gouvernail,  the  queen's  squire,  who  had  accom- 
panied her,  took  charge  of  the  child,  and  restored 
him  to  his  father,  who  had  at  length  burst  the  en- 
chantments of  the  fairy,  and  returned  home. 

Meliadus,  after  seven  years,  married  again,  and 
the  new  queen,  being  jealous  of  the  influence  of 
Tristram  with  his  father,  laid  plots  for  his  life, 
which  were  discovered  by  Gouvernail,  who  in  con- 


140  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

sequence  fled  with  the  boy  to  the  court  of  the  king 
of  France,  where  Tristram  was  kindly  received,  and 
grew  up  improving  in  every  gallant  and  knightly  ac- 
complishment, adding  to  his  skill  in  arms  the  arts  of 
music  and  of  chess.  In  particular,  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  chase  and  to  all  woodland  sports,  so  that 
he  became  distinguished  above  all  other  chevaliers 
of  the  court  for  his  knowledge  of  all  that  relates 
to  hunting.  No  wonder  that  Belinda,  the  king's 
daughter,  fell  in  love  with  him;  but  as  he  did 
not  return  her  passion,  she,  in  a  sudden  impulse  of 
anger,  excited  her  father  against  him,  and  he  was 
banished  the  kingdom.  The  princess  soon  repented 
of  her  act,  and  in  despair  destroyed  herself,  having 
lirst  written  a  most  tender  letter  to  Tristram,  send- 
ing him  at  the  same  time  a  beautiful  and  sagacious 
dog,  of  which  she  was  very  fond,  desiring  him  to  keep 
it  as  a  memorial  of  her.  Meliadus  was  now  dead, 
and  as  his  queen,  Tristram's  stepmother,  held  the 
throne,  Gouvernail  was  afraid  to  carry  his  pupil  to 
his  native  country,  and  took  him  to  Cornwall,  to  his 
uncle  Mark,  who  gave  him  a  kind  reception. 

King  Mark  resided  at  the  castle  of  Tintadel,  al- 
ready mentioned  in  the  history  of  Uther  and  Iguer- 
ne.  In  this  court  Tristram  became  distinguished 
in  all  the  exercises  incumbent  on  a  loiight';  nor  was 
it  long  before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  practically 
employing  his  valor  and  skill.  Moraunt,  a  cele- 
brated champion,  brother  to  tlie  queen  of  Ireland, 
arrived   at  tlie  court,   to   demand   trihuto  of  King 


TRISTRAM   AND    ISOUDE.  141 

Mark.  The  knights  of  Cornwall  are  in  ill  repute, 
in  romance,  for  their  cowardice,  and  they  exhibited 
it  on  this  occasion.  King  Mark  could  find  no  cham- 
pion who  dared  to  encounter  the  Irish  knight,  till 
his  nephew  Tristram,  who  had  not  yet  received  the 
honors  of  knighthood,  craved  to  be  admitted  to  the 
order,  offering  at  the  same  time  to  fight  the  bat- 
tle of  Cornwall  against  the  Irish  champion.  King 
Mark  assented  with  reluctance  ;  Tristram  received 
the  accolade,  which  conferred  knighthood  ujoon  him; 
and  the  place  and  time  were  assigned  for  the  en- 
counter. 

Witliout  attempting  to  give  the  details  of  this  fa- 
mous combat,  the  first  and  one  of  the  most  glorious 
of  Tristram's  exploits,  we  shall  only  say  that  the 
young  knight,  though  severely  wounded,  cleft  the 
head  of  Moraunt,  leaving  a  portion  of  his  sword  in 
the  wound.  Moraunt,  half  dead  with  his  wound  and 
the  disgrace  of  his  defeat,  hastened  to  hide  himself  in 
his  ship,  sailed  away  with  all  speed  for  Ireland,  and 
died  soon  after  arriving  in  his  own  country. 

The  kingdom  of  Cornwall  was  thus  delivered 
from  its  tribute.  Tristram,  weakened  by  loss  of 
blood,  fell  senseless.  His  friends  flew  to  liis  assist- 
ance. They  dressed  his  wounds,  which  in  general 
healed  readily ;  but  the  lance  of  Moraunt  was  poi- 
soned, and  one  wound  which  it  made  yielded  to  no 
remedies,  but  grew  worse  day  by  day.  The  sur- 
geons could  do  no  more.  Tristram  asked  permis- 
sion of  liis  uncle  to  depart,  and  seek  for  aid  in  the 


142  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

kingdom  of  Loegria  (England).  With  his  consent 
he  embarked,  and,  after  tossing  for  many  days  on 
the  sea,  was  driven  by  the  winds  to  the  coast  of  Ire- 
land. He  landed,  full  of  joy  and  gratitude  that  he 
had  escaped  the  peril  of  the  sea ;  took  his  rote,*  and 
began  to  play.  It  was  a  summer  evening,  and  the 
king  of  Ireland  and  his  daughter,  tlie  beautiful 
Isoude,  were  at  a  window  which  overlooked  the  sea. 
The  strange  harper  was  sent  for,  and  conveyed  to 
the  palace,  where,  finding  that  he  was  in  Ireland, 
whose  champion  he  had  lately  slain,  he  concealed 
his  name,  and  called  himself  Tramtris.  The  queen 
undertook  his  cure,  and  by  a  medicated  bath  grad- 
ually restored  him  to  health.  His  skill  in  music 
and  in  games  occasioned  his  being  frequently  called 
to  court,  and  he  became  the  instructor  of  the  prin- 
cess Isoude  in  minstrelsy  and  poetry,  who  profited 
so  well  under  his  care,  that  she  soon  had  no  equal  in 
the  kingdom,  except  her  instructor. 

At  this  time  a  tournament  was  held,  at  which 
many  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  others,  were 
present.  On  the  first  day  a  Saracen  prince,  named 
Palamedes,  obtained  the  advantage  over  all.  They 
brought  him  to  the  court,  and  gave  him  a  feast,  at 
which  Tristram,  just  recovering  from  his  wound, 
was  present.  The  fair  Isoude  appeared  on  this  oc- 
casion in  all  her  charms.  Palamedes  could  not  be- 
hold them  without  emotion,  and  made  no  effort  to 
conceal  his  love.     Tristram  perceived  it,  and  the 

*  A  niusical  instniment. 


TRISTRAM   AND    ISOUDE.  i^V^^^43 

pain  he  felt  from  jealousy  taught  him  how  dear  the 
fair  Isoude  had  already  become  to  him. 

Next  day  the  tournament  was  renewed.  Tris- 
tram, still  feeble  from  his  wound,  rose  during  the 
night,  took  his  arms,  and  concealed  them  in  a  forest 
near  the  place  of  the  contest,  and,  after  it  had  be- 
gun, mingled  with  the  combatants.  He  overthrew 
all  that  encountered  him,  in  particular  Palamedes, 
whom  he  brought  to  the  ground  with  a  stroke  of  his 
lance,  and  then  fought  him  hand  to  hand,  bearing 
off  the  prize  of  the  tourney.  But  his  exertions 
caused  his  woimd  to  reopen ;  he  bled  fast,  and  in 
this  sad  state,  yet  in  triumph,  they  bore  him  to  the 
palace.  The  fair  Isoude  devoted  herself  to  his  re- 
lief with  an  interest  which  grew  more  vivid  day  by 
day ;  and  her  skilful  care  soon  restored  him  to 
Ileal  th. 

It  happened  one  day  that  a  damsel  of  the  court, 
entering  the  closet  where  Tristram's  arms  were  de- 
posited, perceived  that  a  part  of  the  sword  had  been 
broken  off.  It  occurred  to  her  that  the  missing  por- 
tion was  like  that  which  was  left  in  the  skull  of 
Moraunt,  the  Irish  champion.  She  imparted  her 
thought  to  the  queen,  who  compared  the  fragment 
taken  from  her  brother's  wound  with  the  sword  of 
Tristram,  and  was  satisfied  that  it  was  part  of  the 
same,  and  that  the  weapon  of  Tristram  was  that 
which  reft  her  brother's  life.  She  laid  her  griefs 
and  resentment  before  the  king,  who  satisfied  him- 
self with  his  own  eyes  of  the  truth  of  her  suspicions. 


144  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Tristram  was  cited  before  the  whole  court,  and  re- 
proached with  having  dared  to  present  himself  be- 
fore them  after  having  slain  their  kinsman.  Ho 
acknowledged  that  he  had  fought  with  Moraunt  to 
settle  the  claim  for  tribute,  and  said  that  it  was  by 
force  of  winds  and  waves  alone  that  he  was  thrown 
on  their  coast.  •  The  queen  demanded  vengeance  for 
the  death  of  her  brother ;  the  fair  Isoude  trembled 
and  grew  pale,  but  a  murmur  rose  from  all  the 
assembly  that  the  life  of  one  so  handsome  and  so 
brave  should  not  be  taken  for  such  a  cause,  and 
generosity  finally  triumphed  over  resentment  in  the 
mind  of  the  king.  Tristram  was  dismissed  in 
safety,  but  commanded  to  leave  the  kingdom  with- 
out delay,  and  never  to  return  thither  under  pain 
of  death.  Tristram  went  back,  with  restored  health, 
to  Cornwall. 

King  Mark  made  his  nephew  give  him  a  minute 
recital  of  his  adventures.  Tristram  told  him  all 
minutely ;  but  when  he  came  to  speak  of  the  fair 
Isoude,  he  described  her  charms  with  a  warmth  and 
energy  such  as  none  but  a  lover  could  display. 
King  Mark  was  fascinated  with  the  description,  and, 
choosing  a  favorable  time,  demanded  a  boon*  of  his 
nephew,  who  readily  granted  it.     The  king  made 

*  "  Good  faith  was  the  very  coraer-stone  of  chivaby.  Whenever  a 
knight's  word  was  pledged,  (it  mattered  not  how  rashly.)  it  was  to  be 
redeemed  at  any  price.  Hence  the  sacred  obligation  of  the  boon 
(/ranted  by  a  knight  to  his  suppliant.  Instances  without  number  occur 
in  romance,  in  which  a  knight,  by  raslily  granting  an  indefinite  boon, 


TRISTRA3I    AND    ISOLDE.  145 

him  swear  upon  the  holy  reliques  that  he  woiihi 
fiUiil  his  commands.  Then  Mark  directed  liim  to 
go  to  Ireland,  and  obtain  for  him  the  fair  Isoude  to 
be  queen  of  Cornwall. 

Tristram  believed  it  was  certain  death  for  him  to 
return  to  Ireland ;  and  how  could  he  act  as  ambas- 
sador for  his  uncle  in  such  a  cause  ?  Yet,  bound 
by  his  oath,  he  hesitated  not  for  an  instant.  He 
only  took  the  precaution  to  change  his  armor.  He 
embarked  for  Ireland  ;  but  a  tempest  drove  him  to 
the  coast  of  England,  near  Camelot,  where  King 
Arthur  was  holding  his  court,  attended  by  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table,  and  many  others,  the 
most  illustrious  in  the  world. 

Tristram  kept  himself  unknown.  He  took  part 
in  many  justs  ;  he  fought  many  combats,  in  which 
he  covered  himself  with  glory.  One  day  he  saw 
among  those  recently  arrived  the  king  of  Ireland, 
father  of  the  fair  Isoude.  This  prince,  accused  of 
treason  against  his  liege  sovereign,  Arthur,  came  to 
Camelot  to  free  himself  from  the  charge.  Blaanor, 
one  of  the  most  redoubtable  warriors  of  the  Round 
Table,  was  his  accuser,  and  Argius,  the  king,  had 
neither  youthful  vigor  nor  strength  to  encounter 
him      He  must  therefore  seek  a  champion  to  sus- 

was  obliged  to  do  or  suffer  something  extremely  to  his  prejudice. 
But  it  is  not  in  romance  alone  that  we  find  such  singular  instances  of 
adherence  to  an  indefinite  promise  The  liistory  of  the  times  presents 
authentic  transactions  e<|ually  embarrassing  and  absurd."  —  Scott, 
note  to  Sir  Tristram. 

I'l 


146  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

tain  his  innocence.  But  the  knights  of  the  Round 
Table  were  not  at  liberty  to  fight  against  one  an- 
other, unless  in  a  quarrel  of  their  own.  Argius 
heard  of  the  great  renown  of  the  unknown  knight ; 
he  also  was  witness  of  his  exploits.  He  sought  him, 
and  conjured  him  to  adopt  his  defence,  and  on  his 
oath  declared  that  he  Avas  innocent  of  the  crime  of 
which  he  was  accused.  Tristram  readily  consented, 
and  made  himself  known  to  the  king,  who  on  his 
part  promised  to  reward  his  exertions,  if  successful, 
with  whatever  gift  he  might  ask. 

Tristram  fought  with  Blaanor,  and  overthrew  him, 
and  held  his  life  in  his  power.  The  fallen  warrior 
called  on  him  to  use  his  right  of  conquest,  and  strike 
the  fatal  blow.  "  God  forbid,"  said  Tristram,  "that 
I  should  take  the  life  of  so  brave  a  knight !  "  He 
raised  him  up  and  restored  him  to  his  friends.  The 
judges  of  the  field  decided  that  the  king  of  Ireland 
was  acquitted  of  the  charge  against  him,  and  they 
led  Tristram  in  triumph  to  his  tent.  King  Argius, 
full  of  gratitude,  conjured  Tristram  to  accompany 
him  to  his  kingdom.  They  departed  together,  and 
arrived  in  Ireland ;  and  the  queen,  forgetting  her 
resentment  for  her  brother's  death,  exhibited  to  the 
preserver  of  her  husband's  life  nothing  but  gratitude 
and  good-will. 

How  happy  a  moment  for  Isoude,  who  knew  that 
her  father  had  promised  his  deliverer  whatever  boon 
he  might  ask  !  But  the  unhappy  Tristram  gazed 
on  her  Avith  despair,  at  the   thought  of  tlie   cruel 


TRISTRAM   AND    ISOUDE.  147 

oath  which  bound  him.  His  magnanimous  soul  sub- 
dued the  force  of  his  love.  He  revealed  the  oath 
which  ho  had  taken,  and  Avitli  trembling  voice  de- 
manded tlic  fair  Isoude  for  his  uncle. 

Argius  consented,  and  soon  all  Avas  prepared  for 
the  departure  of  Isoude.  Brengwain,  her  favorite 
maid  of  honor,  was  to  accompany  her.  On  the  day 
of  departure  the  queen  took  aside  this  devoted  at- 
tendant, and  told  her  that  she  had  observed  that  her 
daughter  and  Tristram  were  attached  to  one  an- 
other, and  that,  to  avert  the  bad  effects  of  this  incli- 
nation, she  had  procured  from  a  powerful  fairy  a 
potent  philter  (love-draught),  which  she  directed 
Brengwain  to  administer  to  Isoude  and  to  King 
Mark  on  the  evening  of  their  marriage. 

Isoude  and  Tristram  embarked  together.  A  fa- 
vorable wind  filled  the  sails,  and  promised  them  a 
fortunate  voyage.  The  lovers  gazed  upon  one  an- 
other, and  could  not  repress  their  sighs.  Love 
seemed  to  light  up  all  his  fires  on  their  lips,  as  in 
their  hearts.  The  day  was  warm  ;  they  suffered 
from  thirst.  Isoude  first  complained.  Tristram 
descried  the  bottle  containing  the  love-draught, 
which  Brengwain  had  been  so  imprudent  as  to  leave 
in  sight.  He  took  it,  gave  some  of  it  to  the  charm- 
ing Isoude,  and  drank  the  remainder  himself.  The 
dog  Houdain  licked  the  cup.  The  ship  arrived  in 
Cornwall,  and  Isoude  was  married  to  King  Mark. 
The  old  monarch  was  delighted  with  his  bride,  and 
his    gratitude    to    Tristram   was    unbounded.       He 


148  KING    ARTIIUIl    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

loaded  him  with  honors,  and  made  liim  cliamber- 
laiii  of  liis  palace,  thus  giving  him  access  to  tho 
queen  at  all  times. 

In  the  midst  of  the  festivities  of  the  court  which 
followed  the  royal  marriage,  an  unknown  minstrel 
one  day  presented  himself,  bearing  a  harp  of  pecu- 
liar construction.  He  excited  the  curiosity  of  King 
Mark  by  refusing  to  play  upon  it  till  he  should  grant 
him  a  boon.  Tiie  king  having  promised  to  grant 
his  request,  the  minstrel,  who  was  none  other  than 
the  Saracen  knight,  Sir  Palamedes,  the  lover  of  the 
fair  Isoude,  sung  to  the  harp  a  lay,  in  which  he  de- 
manded Isoude  as  the  promised  gift.  King  Mark 
could  not  by  the  laws  of  knighthood  withhold  the 
boon.  The  lady  was  mounted  on  her  horse,  and 
led  away  by  her  triumphant  lover.  Tristram,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  was  absent  at  the  time,  and  did  not 
return  until  their  departure.  When  he  heard  what 
had  taken  place,  he  seized  his  rote,  and  hastened  to 
the  shore,  where  Isoude  and  her  new  master  had 
ah-eady  embarked.  Tristram  played  upon  his  rote, 
and  the  sound  reached  the  ears  of  Isoude,  who  be- 
came so  deeply  affected,  that  Sir  Palamedes  was  in- 
duced to  return  with  her  to  land,  that  they  miglit 
see  the  unknown  musician.  Tristram  watched  his 
opportunity,  seized  the  lady's  horse  by  the  bridle, 
and  plunged  with  her  into  the  forest,  tauntingly  in- 
forming his  rival  that  "  what  he  had  got  by  the  harp 
he  had  lost  by  the  rote."  Palamedes  pursued,  and  a 
combat  was  about  to  commence,  the  result  of  which 


TRISTRAM    AND    ISOUDE.  149 

must  have  been  fatal  to  one  or  other  of  these  gallant 
knights;  but  Isoudc  stepped  between  them,  and, 
addressing  Palamedes,  said,  "  You  tell  me  that  you 
love  me  ;  you  will  not  then  deny  me  the  request  I 
am  about  to  make  ?  "  "  Lady,"  he  replied,  "  I  will 
perform  your  bidding."  "  Leave,  then,"  said  she, 
"  this  contest,  and  repair  to  King  Arthur's  court, 
and  salute  Queen  Guenever  from  me  ;  tell  her  that 
there  are  in  the  world  but  two  ladies,  herself  and  I, 
and  two  lovers,  hers  and  mine  ;  and  come  thou  not 
in  future  in  any  place  where  I  am."  Palamedes 
burst  into  tears.  "  Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  "  I  will  obey 
you ;  but  I  beseech  you  that  you  will  not  for  ever 
steel  your  heart  against  me."  "  Palamedes,"  she 
replied,  "  may  I  never  taste  of  joy  again  if  I  ever 
quit  my  first  love."  Palamedes  then  went  his  way. 
The  lovers  remained  a  week  in  concealment,  after 
which  Tristram  restored  Isoude  to  her  husband,  ad- 
vising him  in  future  to  reward  minstrels  in  some 
other  way. 

The  king  showed  much  gratitude  to  Tristram,  but 
in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  cherished  bitter  jeal- 
ousy of  him.  One  day  Tristram  and  Isoude  were 
alone  together  in  her  private  chamber.  A  base  and 
cowardly  knight  of  the  court,  named  Andret,  spied 
them  through  a  keyhole.  They  sat  at  a  table  of 
chess,  but  were  not  attending  to  the  game.  Andret 
brought  the  king,  having  first  raised  his  suspicions, 
and  placed  him  so  as  to  watch  tlieir  motions.  The 
king  saw  enough  to  confirm  his  suspicions,  and  lie 


150  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

burst  into  the  apartment  with  his  sword  drawn,  and 
liad  nearly  slain  Tristram  before  he  was  put  on  his 
guard.  But  Tristram  avoided  the  blow,  drew  his 
sword,  and  drove  before  him  the  cowardly  monarch, 
chasing  him  through  all  the  apartments  of  the  pal- 
ace, giving  him  frequent  blows  Avith  the  fiat  of  his 
sword,  while  he  cried  in  vain  to  his  knights  to  save 
him.  They  were  not  inclined,  or  did  not  dare,  to 
interpose  in  his  behalf. 


A  proof  of  the  great  popularity  of  the  tale  of  Sir 
Tristram  is  the  fact  that  the  Italian  poets,  Boiardo 
and  Ariosto,  have  founded  upon  it  the  idea  of  the 
two  enchanted  fountains,  which  produced  the  oppo- 
site effects  of  love  and  hatred.  Boiardo  thus  de- 
scribes the  fountain  of  hatred  :  — 

"  Fair  was  that  fountain,  sculptured  all  of  gold. 
With  alabaster  sculptured,  rich  and  rare  ; 
And  in  its  basin  clear  thou  might'st  behold 
The  flowery  marge  reflected  fresh  and  fair. 
Sage  Merlin  framed  the  font,  —  so  legends  bear,  — 
When  on  fair  Isoude  doated  Tristram  brave, 
That  the  good  errant  knight,  arriving  there, 
Might  quaff*  oblivion  in  the  enchanted  wave. 

And  leave  his  luckless  love,  and  'scape  his  timeless  grave. 

"  But  ne'er  the  warrior's  evil  fate  allowed 
His  steps  that  fountain's  charmed  verge  to  gain, 
Though  restless,  roving  on  adventure  proud. 
He  traversed  oft  the  land  and  oft  the  main." 


CHAPTER     XIII. 

TRISTEAM   AND  ISOUDE,   CONTINUED. 

After  this  aifair  Tristram  was  banished  from  the 
kingdom,  and  Isoude  shut  up  in  a  tower,  which 
stood  on  the  bank  of  a  river.  Tristram  could  not 
resolve  to  depart  without  some  further  communica- 
tion with  his  beloved ;  so  he  concealed  himself  in 
the  forest,  till  at  last  he  contrived  to  attract  her 
attention,  by  means  of  twigs  which  he  curiously 
peeled,  and  sent  down  the  stream  under  her  win- 
dow. By  this  means  many  secret  interviews  were 
obtained.  Tristram  dwelt  in  the  forest,  sustaining 
himself  by  game,  which  the  dog  Houdain  ran  down 
for  him  ;  for  this  faithful  animal  was  unequalled  in 
the  chase,  and  knew  so  well  his  master's  wish  for 
concealment,  that,  in  the  pursuit  of  his  game,  he 
never  barked.  At  length  Tristram  departed,  but 
left  Houdain  with  Isoude,  as  a  remembrancer  of 
him. 

Sir  Tristram  wandered  through  various  countries, 
achieving  the  most  perilous  enterprises,  and  cover- 
ing himself  with  glory,  yet  unhappy  at  the  separa- 


152  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

tioii  from  liis  beloved  Isoude.  At  length  King 
Mark's  territory  was  invaded  by  a  neighboring 
chieftain,  and  he  was  forced  to  summon  his  nephew 
to  his  aid.  Tristram  obeyed  the  call,  put  himself 
at  the  head  of  his  uncle's  vassals,  and  drove  the  en- 
emy out  of  the  country.  Mark  was  full  of  grati- 
tude, and  Tristram,  restored  to  favor  and  to  the 
society  of  his  beloved  Isoude,  seemed  at  the  summit 
of  happiness.     But  a  sad  reverse  was  at  hand. 

Tristram  had  brought  with  him  a  friend  named 
Pheredin,  son  of  the  king  of  Brittany.  Tliis  young 
knight  saw  Queen  Isoude,  and  could  not  resist  her 
charms.  Knowing  the  love  of  his  friend  for  the 
queen,  and  that  that  love  was  returned,  Pheredin 
concealed  his  own,  until  his  health  failed,  and  lie. 
feared  he  was  drawing  near  his  end.  He  then 
wrote  to  the  beautiful  queen  that  he  was  dying  for 
love  of  her. 

The  gentle  Isoude,  in  a  moment  of  pity  for  the 
friend  of  Tristram,  returned  him  an  answer  so  kind 
and  compassionate  that  it  restored  him  to  life.  A 
few  days  afterwards  Tristram  found  this  letter. 
The  most  terrible  jealousy  took  possession  of  his 
soul ;  he  would  have  slain  Pheredin,  who  with  diffi- 
culty made  his  escape.  Then  Tristram  mounted 
his  horse,  and  rode  to  the  forest,  where  for  ten  days 
he  took  no  rest  nor  food.  At  length  he  was  found 
by  a  damsel  lying  almost  dead  by  the  brink  of  a 
fountain.  She  recognized  him,  and  tried  in  vain  to 
rouse  his  attention.     At  lae^t,  recollecting  his  love 


TRISTRAM   AND    ISOUDE.  153 

for  music,  she  went  and  got  her  harp,  and  played 
thereon.  Tristram  was  roused  from  his  reverie ; 
tears  flowed ;  he  breathed  more  freely ;  he  took  the 
harp  from  the  maiden,  and  sung  this  lay,  with  a 
voice  broken  with  sobs. 

"  Sweet  I  sang  in  former  days, 
Kind  love  perfected  my  lays  : 
Now  my  art  alone  displays 
The  woe  that  on  my  being  preys. 

*'  Channing  love,  delicious  power. 
Worshipped  from  my  earliest  hour, 
Thou  who  life  on  all  dost  shower. 
Love  !  my  life  thou  dost  devour. 

"  In  death's  hour  I  beg  of  thee, 
Isoude,  dearest  enemy, 
Thou  who  erst  couldst  kinder  be. 
When  I  'm  gone,  forget  not  me. 

"  On  my  gravestone  passers-by 
Oft  will  read,  as  low  I  lie, 
'  Never  wight  in  love  could  vie 
With  Tristram,  yet  she  let  him  die/' 

Tristram,  having  finished  his  lay,  wrote  it  off  and 
gave  it  to  the  damsel,  conjuring  her  to  present  it  to 
the  queen. 

Meanwhile  Queen  Isoude  was  inconsolable  at  the 
absence  of  Tristram.  She  discovered  that  it  was 
caused  by  the  fatal  letter  which  she  had  written  to 
Pheredin.  Innocent,  but  in  despair  at  the  sad  ef- 
fects of  her  letter,  she  wrote  another  to  Pheredin, 
charging  him  never  to    see  her  again.      The  iin- 


154  KING    ARTHUH   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

happy  lover  obeyed  this  cruel  decree.  He  plunged 
into  the  forest,  and  died  of  grief  and  love  in  a  her- 
mit's cell. 

Isoude  passed  licr  days  in  lamenting  the  absence 
and  unknown  fate  of  Tristram.  One  day  her  jeal- 
ous husband,  having  entered  her  cliamber  unper- 
ceived,  overheard  her  singing  the  following  lay :  — ■ 

"  My  voice  to  piteous  wail  is  bent, 
My  harjD  to  notes  of  languishment ; 
Ah,  love !   delightsome  days  be  meant 
Tor  happier  wights,  with  hearts  content. 

"  Ah,  Tristram !  far  away  from  me, 
Art  thou  from  restless  anguish  free  ? 
Ah !  couldst  thou  so  one  moment  be, 
From  her  who  so  much  loveth  thee  ?  " 

The  king,  hearing  these  words,  burst  forth  in  a 
rage ;  but  Isoude  was  too  wretched  to  fear  his  vio- 
lence. "  You  have  heard  me,"  she  said ;  "  I  confess 
it  all.  I  love  Tristram,  and  always  shall  love  him. 
Without  doubt  he  is  dead,  and  died  for  me.  I  no 
longer  wish  to  live.  The  blow  that  shall  finish  my 
misery  will  bo  most  welcome." 

The  king  was  moved  at  the  distress  of  the  fair 
Isoude,  and  perhaps  the  idea  of  Tristram's  death 
tended  to  allay  his  wrath.  He  left  the  queen  in 
charge  of  lier  women,  commanding  them  to  take 
especial  care  lest  her  despair  should  lead  her  to 
do  harm  to  herself. 

Tristram  meanwhile,    distracted  as  he  was,  ren- 


TRISTRAM    AND    ISOUDE.  155 

dered  a  most  important  service  to  the  shepherds  by 
slaying  a  gigantic  robber  named  Taiillas,  who  was 
in  the  habit  of  plundering  their  flocks  and  rifling 
their  cottages.  The  shepherds,  in  their  gratitude 
to  Tristram,  bore  him  in  triumph  to  King  Mark  to 
have  him  bestow  on  him  a  suitable  reward.  No 
wonder  Mark  failed  to  recognize  in  the  half-clad, 
wild  man  before  him  his  nephew  Tristram;  but 
grateful  for  the  service  the  unknown  had  rendered, 
he  ordered  him  to  be  well  taken  care  of,  and  gave 
him  in  charge  to  the  queen  and  her  women.  Under 
such  care  Tristram  rapidly  recovered  his  serenity 
and  his  health,  so  that  the  romancer  tells  us  he  be- 
came handsomer  than  ever.  King  Mark's  jealousy 
revived  with  Tristram's  health  and  good  looks,  and, 
in  spite  of  his  debt  of  gratitude  so  lately  increased, 
he  again  banished  him  from  the  court. 

Sir  Tristram  left  Cornwall,  and  proceeded  into  the 
land  of  Loegria  (England)  in  quest  of  adventures. 
One  day  he  entered  a  wide  forest.  The  sound  of  a 
little  bell  showed  him  that  some  inhabitant  was 
near.  He  followed  the  sound,  and  found  a  hermit, 
who  informed  him  that  he  was  in  the  forest  of  Ar- 
nantes,  belonging  to  the  fairy  Viviane,  the  Lady  of 
the  Lake,  who,  smitten  with  love  for  King  Arthur, 
had  foimd  means  to  entice  him  to  this  forest,  where 
by  enchantments  she  held  him  a  prisoner,  having 
deprived  him  of  all  memory  of  who  and  what  he 
was.  The  hermit  informed  him  that  all  the  knights 
of  the  Round  Table  wore  out  in  searcli  of  the  king, 


156  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

and  that  lie  (Tristram)  was  now  in  the  scene  of  the 
most  grand  and  important  adventures. 

This  was  enough  to  animate  Tristram  in  the 
search.  He  had  not  wandered  far  before  he  en- 
countered a  knight  of  Arthur's  court,  who  proved 
to  be  Sir  Kay  the  Seneschal,  who  demanded  of  him 
whence  lie  came.  Tristram  answering,  "  From  Corn- 
wall," Sir  Kay  did  not  let  slip  the  opportunity  of  a 
joke  at  the  expense  of  the  Cornish  knight.  Tris- 
tram chose  to  leave  him  in  his  error,  and  even  con- 
firmed him  in  it ;  for,  meeting  some  other  knights, 
Tristram  declined  to  just  with  them.  They  spent 
the  night  together  at  an  abbey,  where  Tristram  sub- 
mitted patiently  to  all  their  jokes.  The  Seneschal 
gave  the  word  to  his  companions,  that  they  should 
set  out  early  next  day,  and  intercept  the  Cornish 
knight  on  his  way,  and  enjoy  the  amusement  of  see- 
ing his  fright  when  they  should  insist  on  running  a 
tilt  with  him.  Tristram  next  morning  found  him- 
self alone ;  he  put  on  his  armor,  and  set  out  to  con- 
tinue his  quest.  He  soon  saw  before  him  the  Sen- 
eschal and  the  three  knights,  who  barred  the  way, 
and  insisted  on  a  just.  Tristram  excused  himself 
a  long  time  ;  at  last  he  reluctantly  took  his  stand. 
He  encountered  them,  one  after  the  other,  and  over- 
threw them  all  four,  man  and  horse,  and  then  rode 
off,  bidding  them  not  to  forget  their  friend,  the 
knight  of  Cornwall. 

Tristram  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  met  a  dam- 
sel, who  cried  out,  "  Ah,  my  lord  !    hasten  forward, 


TRISTRAM   AND    ISOUDE.  157 

and  prevent  a  horrid  treason !  "  Tristram  flew  to 
lier  assistance,  and  soon  reached  a  spot  where  he 
beheld  a  knight,  whom  three  others  had  borne  to 
the  ground,  and  were  imlacing  his  hehnet  in  order 
to  cut  off  his  head. 

Tristram  flew  to  the  rescue,  and  slew  with  one 
stroke  of  his  lance  one  of  the  assailants.  The 
knight,  recovering  his  feet,  sacrificed  another  to  his 
vengeance,  and  the  third  made  his  escape.  The  res- 
cued knight  then  raised  the  visor  of  his  helmet,  and 
a  long  white  beard  fell  down  upon  his  breast.  The 
majesty  and  venerable  air  of  this  knight  made  Tris- 
tram suspect  that  it  was  none  other  than  Arthur 
himself,  and  the  prince  confirmed  his  conjecture. 
Tristram  would  have  knelt  before  him,  but  Arthur 
received  him  in  his  arms,  and  inquired  his  name 
and  country ;  but  Tristram  declined  to  disclose 
them,  on  the  plea  that  he  was  now  on  a  quest  re- 
quiring secrecy.  At  this  moment  the  damsel  who 
had  brought  Tristram  to  the  rescue  darted  forward, 
and,  seizing  the  king's  hand,  drew  from  his  fmger  a 
ring,  the  gift  of  the  fairy,  and  by  that  act  dissolved 
the  enchantment.  Arthur,  having  recovered  his 
reason  and  his  memory,  offered  to  Tristram  to  at- 
tach him  to  his  court,  and  to  confer  honors  and  dig- 
nities upon  him ;  but  Tristram  declined  all,  and 
only  consented  to  accompany  him  till  he  should  see 
him  safe  in  the  hands  of  his  knights.  Soon  after, 
Hector  de  Marys  rode  up,  and  saluted  the  king, 
who  on  his  part  introduced  him  to  Tristram  as  one 
u 


158  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

of  the  bravest  of  his  knights.  Tristram  took  leave 
of  the  king  and  his  faithful  follower,  and  continued 
his  quest. 

We  cannot  follow  Tristram  through  all  the  ad- 
ventures which  filled  this  epoch  of  his  history.  Suf-. 
fice  it  to  say,  he  fulfilled  on  all  occasions  the  duty 
of  a  true  knight,  rescuing  the  oppressed,  redressing 
wrongs,  abolishing  evil  customs,  and  suppressing 
injustice,  thus  by  constant  action  endeavoring  to 
lighten  the  pains  of  absence  from  her  he  loved.  In 
the  mean  time  Isoude,  separated  from  her  dear  Tris- 
tram, passed  her  days  in  languor  and  regret.  At 
length  she  could  no  longer  resist  the  desire  to  hear 
some  news  of  her  lover.  She  wrote  a  letter,  and 
sent  it  by  one  of  her  damsels,  niece  of  her  faithful 
Brengwain.  One  day  Tristram,  weary  with  his  ex- 
ertions, had  dismounted  and  laid  himself  down  by 
the  side  of  a  fountain  and  fallen  asleep.  The  dam- 
sel of  Queen  Isoude  arrived  at  the  same  fountain, 
and  recognized  Passebreul,  the  horse  of  Tristram, 
and  presently  perceived  his  master,  asleep.  He  was 
thin  and  pale,  showing  evident  marks  of  the  pain 
he  suffered  in  separation  from  his  beloved.  She 
awaked  him,  and  gave  him  the  letter  which  she 
bore,  and  Tristram  enjoyed  the  pleasure,  so  sweet 
to  a  lover,  of  hearing  from  and  talking  about  the 
object  of  his  affections.  He  prayed  the  damsel  to 
postpone  her  return  till  after  the  magnificent  tour- 
nament which  Arthur  had  proclaimed  should  have 
taken  place,  and  conducted  her  to  tlio  castle  of  P^r-  ' 


TRISTRAM    AND    ISOUDE.  159 

sides,  a  brave  and  loyal  knight,  who  received  her 
with  great  consideration. 

Tristram  conducted  the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoiide 
to  the  tournament,  and  had  her  placed  in  the  bal- 
cony among  the  ladies  of  the  queen.  He  then 
joined  the  tourney.  Nothing  could  exceed  his 
strength  and  valor.  Launcelot  admired  him,  and 
by  a  secret  presentiment  declined  to  dispute  the 
honor  of  the  day  with  a  knight  so  gallant  and  so 
skilful.  Arthur  descended  from  the  balcony  to 
greet  the  conqueror ;  but  the  modest  and  devoted 
Tristram,  content  with  having  borne*  off  the  prize  in 
the  sight  of  the  messenger  of  Isoude,  made  his  es- 
cape with  her,  and  disappeared. 

The  next  day  the  tourney  recommenced.  Tris- 
tram assumed  different  armor,  that  he  might  not  be 
known ;  but  he  was  soon  detected  by  the  terrible 
blows  that  he  gave.  Arthur  and  Guenever  had  no 
doubt  that  it  was  the  same  knight  who  had  borne 
off  the  prize  of  the  day  before.  Arthur's  gallant 
spirit  was  roused.  After  Launcelot  of  the  Lake  and 
Sir  Gawain,  he  was  accounted  the  best  knight  of  the 
Round  Table.  He  went  privately  and  armed  him- 
self, and  came  into  the  tourney  in  undistinguished 
armor.  He  ran  a  just  with  Tristram,  whom  he 
shook  in  his  seat ;  but  Tristram,  who  did  not  know 
him,  threw  him  out  of  the  saddle.  Arthur  recov- 
ered himself,  and,  content  with  having  made  proof 
of  the  stranger  knight,  bade  Launcelot  finish  the 
adventure,  and  vindicate  the  honor  of  the  Round 


I 

160  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 


Table.  Sir  Launcelot,  at  the  bidding  of  the  mon- 
arch, assailed  Tristram,  whose  lance  was  already 
broken  in  former  encoimters.  But  the  law  of  tliis 
sort  of  combat  was,  that  the  knight,  after  having 
broken  his  lance,  must,  fight  with  his  sword,  and 
must  not  refuse  to  meet  with  his  shield  the  lance  of 
his  antagonist.  Tristram  met  Launcelot's  charge 
upon  his  shield,  which  that  terrible  lance  could  not 
fail  to  pierce.  It  inflicted  a  wound  upon  Tristram's 
side,  and,  breaking,  left  the  iron  in  the  wound.  But 
Tristram  also  with  his  sword  smote  so  vigorously  on 
Launcelot's  cas(Jue  that  he  cleft  it,  and  wounded  his 
head.  The  wound  was  not  deep,  but  the  blood 
flowed  into  his  eyes,  and  blinded  him  for  a  moment, 
and  Tristram,  who  thought  himself  mortally  wound- 
ed, retired  from  the  field.  Launcelot  declared  to 
the  king  that  he  had  never  received  such  a  blow  in 
his  life  before. 

Tristram  hastened  to  Gouvernail,  his  squire,  who 
drew  forth  the  iron,  bound  up  the  wound,  and  gave 
him  immediate  ease.  Tristram,  after  the  tourna- 
ment, kept  retired  in  his  tent,  but  Arthur,  with  the 
consent  of  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table,  de- 
creed him  the  honors  of  the  second  day.  But  it  was 
no  longer  a  secret  that  the  victor  of  the  two  days  was 
the  same  individual,  and  Gouvernail,  being  ques- 
tioned, confirmed  the  suspicions  of  Launcelot  and 
Arthur,  that  it  was  no  other  than  Sir  Tristram  of 
Leonais,  the  nephew  of  the  king  of  CornwalL 

King  Arthur,  who  desired  to  reward  his  distiii- 


TiySTRAM    AND    ISOUDK.  161 

guished  valor,  and  knew  that  his  uncle  Mark  had 
ungratefully  banished  him,  would  have  eagerly 
availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  attach  Tristram 
to  his  court,  —  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table 
declaring  with  acclamation  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  find  a  more  worthy  companion.  But  Tris- 
tram had  already  departed  in  search  of  adventures, 
and  the  damsel  of  Queen  Isoude  returned  to  her 
mistres«. 


u* 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

SIR  TRISTRAM'S  BATTLE  WITH  SIR  LAU1*CEL0T. 

Sir  Tristram  rode  through  a  forest,  and  saw  ten 
men  fighting,  and  one  man  did  battle  against  nine. 
So  he  rode  to  the  knights  and  cried  to  them,  bidding 
them  cease  their  battle,  for  they  did  themselves 
great  shame,  so  many  knights  to  fight  against  one. 
Then  answered  the  master  of  the  knights  (his  name 
was  Sir  Breuse  sans  Pitie,  who  was  at  that  time  the 
most  yillanous  knight  living)  :  "  Sir  knight,  what 
have  ye  to  do  to  meddle  with  us  ?  If  ye  be  wise, 
depart  on  your  way  as  you  came,  for  this  knight 
shall  not  escape  us."  "  That  were  pity,"  said  Sir 
Tristram,  "  that  so  good  a  knight  should  be  slain  so 
cowardly ;  therefore  I  warn  you  I  will  succor  him 
with  all  my  puissance." 

Then  Sir  Tristram  alighted  off  his  horse,  because 
they  were  on  foot,  that  they  should  not  slay  his 
horse.  And  he  smote  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the 
left  so  vigorously,  that  well-nigh  at  every  stroke 
he  struck  down  a  kniglit.  At  last  they  fled,  with 
Breuse  sans  Pitie,  into  the  tower,  and  shut  Sir  Tris- 


SIR  Tristram's  battle  with  sir  launcelot.    163 

tram  without  the  gate.  Then  Sir  Tristram  returned 
back  to  the  rescued  knight,  and  found  him  sitting 
under  a  tree,  sore  wounded.  "  Fair  knight,"  said 
he,  "  how  is  it  with  you  ?  "  "  Sir  knight,"  said  Sir 
Palamedes,  for  he  it  was,  "  I  thank  you  of  your  great 
goodness,  for  ye  have  rescued  me  from  death." 
"  What  is  yoiu'  name  ? "  said  Sir  Tristram.  He 
said,  "My  name  is  Sir  Palamedes."  "Say  ye  so?" 
said  Sir  Tristram ;  "  now  know  that  thou  art  the 
man  in  the  world  that  I  most  hate  ;  therefore  make 
thee  ready,  for  I  will  do  battle  with  thee."  "  What 
is  your  name  ?  "  said  Sir  Palamedes.  "  My  name 
is  Sir  Tristram,  your  mortal  enemy."  "  It  may  be 
so,"  said  Sir  Palamedes  ;  "  but  you  have  done  over- 
much for  me  this  day,  that  I  should  fight  with  you. 
Moreover,  it  will  be  no  honor  for  you  to  have  to  do 
with  me,  for  you  are  fresh  and  I  am  wounded. 
Therefore,  if  you  will  needs  have  to  do  with  me,** 
assign  me  a  day,  and  I  shall  meet  you  without  fail." 
"  You  say  well,"  said  Sir  Tristram  ;  "  now  I  assign 
you  to  meet  me  in  the  meadow  by  the  river  of  Cam- 
clot,  where  Merlin  set  the  monument."  So  they 
were  agreed.  Then  they  departed,  and  took  their 
ways  diverse.  Sir  Tristram  passed  through  a  great 
forest  into  a  plain,  till  lie  came  to  a  priory,  and  there 
he  reposed  him  with  a  good  man  six  days. 

Then  departed  Sir  Tristram,  and  rode  straight 
into  Camelot  to  the  monument  of  Merlin,  and  there 
he  looked  about  Inm  for  Sir  Palamedes.  And  he 
perceived  a  seemly  knight,  who  came  riding  against 


1G4  KING    ARTHUll    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

him  all  in  white,  with  a  covered  shield.  When  he 
came  nigh,  Sir  Tristram  said  aloud,  "  Welcome, 
sir  knight,  and  well  and  trnly  have  you  kept  your 
promise."  Tlien  they  made  ready  their  shields  and 
spears,  and  came  together  with  all  the  might  of  their 
horses,  so  fiercely,  that  both  the  liorses  and  the 
knights  fell  to  the  earth.  And  as  soon  as  they 
might,  tliey  quitted  their  horses,  and  struck  togeth- 
er with  bright  swords  as  men  of  might,  and  each 
wounded  the  other  wonderfully  sore,  so  that  the 
blood  ran  out  upon  the  grass.  Thus  they  fought 
for  the  space  of  four  hours,  and  never  one  would 
speak  to  the  other  one  word.  Then  at  last  spake 
the  white  knight,  and  said,  "  Sir,  thou  fightest  won- 
derful well,  as  ever  I  saw  knight ;  therefore,  if  it 
please  you,  tell  me  your  name."  "  Why  dost  thou 
ask  my  name  ?  "  said  Sir  Tristram  ;  "  art  thou  not 
Sir  Palamedes  ?  "  "  No,  fair  knight,"  said  he,  "  I 
am  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake."  "  Alas  !  "  said  Sir 
Tristram,  "  what  have  I  done  ?  for  you  are  the  man 
of  the  world  that  I  love  best."  ''Fair  knight,"  said 
Sir  Laimcelot,  "  tell  me  your  name."  "  Truly," 
said  he,  "  my  name  is  Sir  Tristram  de  Lionesse." 
"  Alas  !  alas  !  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  what  adven- 
ture has  befallen  me  !  "  And  therewith  Sir  Laun- 
celot kneeled  down,  and  yielded  him  up  his  sword ; 
and  Sir  Tristram  kneeled  down,  and  yielded  him  up 
his  sword;  and  so  either  gave  other  the  degree.  And 
then  they  both  went  to  the  stone,  and  sat  them  down 
upon  it,  and  took  off  their  helms,  and  each  kissed 


SIR  Tristram's  battle  with  sir  launcelot.    165 

the  other  a  hundred  times.  And  then  anon  they 
rode  toward  Camelot,  and  on  the  way  they  met  with 
Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Gaheris,  that  had  made  promise 
to  Arthur  never  to  come  again  to  the  court  till 
they  had  brought  Sir  Tristram  with  them. 

"  Return  again,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  for  your 
quest  is  done  ;  for  I  have  met  with  Sir  Tristram. 
Lo,  here  he  is  in  his  own  person."  Then  was  Sir 
Gawain  glad,  and  said  to  Sir  Tristram,  ''  Ye  are 
welcome."  AVith  this  came  King  Arthur,  and  when 
he  wist  there  was  Sir  Tristram,  he  ran  unto  him, 
and  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Sir  Tristram, 
ye  are  as  welcome  as  any  knight  that  ever  came  to 
this  court."  Then  Sir  Tristram  told  the  king  how 
he  came  thither  for  to  have  had  to  do  with  Sir  Pala- 
medes,  and  how  he  had  rescued  him  from  Sir  Breuse 
sans  Pitie  and  the  nine  knights.  Then  King  Arthur 
took  Sir  Tristram  by  the  hand,  and  went  to  the 
Table  Eound,  and  Queen  Guenever  came,  and  many 
ladies  with  her,  and  all  the  ladies  said  with  one 
voice,  "  Welcome,  Sir  Tristram."  "  Welcome," 
said  the  knights.  "  Welcome,"  said  Arthur,  "  for 
one  of  the  best  of  knights,  and  the  gentlest  of  the 
world,  and  the  man  of  most  worship  ;  for  of  all  man- 
ner of  hunting  thou  bearest  the  prize,  and  of  all 
measures  of  blowing  thou  art  the  beginning,  and  of 
all  the  terms  of  hunting  and  hawking  ye  are  the  in- 
ventor, and  of  all  instruments  of  music  ye  are  the 
best  skilled ;  therefore,  gentle  knight,"  said  Arthur, 
^'yc  are  welcome  to  this  court."    And  then  King  Ar- 


166  KINO   ARTHUK   AND    ms    KNIGHTS. 

thur  made  Sir  Tristram  knight  of  the  Table  Round 
with  great  nobley  and  feasting  as  can  be  thought. 

SIR   TRISTRAM    AS   A    SPORTSMAN. 

Tristram  is  often  alhided  to  by  the  Romancers  as 
the  great  authority  and  model  in  all  matters  relat- 
ing to  the  chase.  In  the  Faery  Queene,  Tristram, 
in  answer  to  the  inquiries  of  Sir  Calidore,  informs 
him  of  his  name  and  parentage,  and  concludes :  — 

"  All  which  my  days  I  have  not  lewdly  spent, 
Nor  spilt  the  blossom  of  my  tender  years 
In  idlesse  ;  but,  as  was  convenient, 
Have  trained  been  with  many  noble  feres 
In  gentle  thewes,  and  such  like  seemly  leers  ;  * 
'Mongst  which  my  most  delight  hath  always  been 
To  hunt  the  salvage  chace,  amongst  my  peers, 
Of  all  that  rangeth  in  the  forest  green, 

Of  which  none  is  to  me  unknown  that  yet  was  seen. 

"  Ne  is  there  hawk  which  mantleth  on  her  perch, 
Whether  high  towering  or  accosting  low, 
But  I  the  measure  of  her  flight  do  search, 
And  all  her  prey,  and  all  her  diet  know. 
Such  be  our  joys,  which  in  these  forests  grow.*' 

*  Feres^  companions  ;  thewes,  labors  ;  leers^  learning. 


[irir  ITER  SIT 

CHAPTER    XV. 

THE   ROUND   TABLE. 

The  famous  enchanter,  Merlin,  had  exerted  all  his 
skill  in  fabricating  the  Round  Table.  Of  the  seats 
which  surrounded  it  he  had  constructed  thirteen,  in 
memory  of  the  thirteen  Apostles.  Twelve  of  these 
seats  only  could  be  occupied,  and  they  only  by 
knights  of  the  highest  fame ;  the  thirteenth  repre- 
sented the  seat  of  the  traitor  Judas.  It  remained 
always  empty.  It  was  called  the  perilous  seafy  ever 
since  a  rash  and  haughty  Saracen  knight  had  dared 
to  jDlace  himself  in  it,  when  the  earth  opened  and 
swallowed  him  up. 

A  magic  power  wrote  upon  each  seat  the  name  of 
the  knight  who  was  entitled  to  sit  in  it.  No  one 
could  succeed  to  a  vacant  seat  unless  he  surpassed 
in  valor  and  glorious  deeds  the  knight  who  had  oc- 
cupied it  before  him ;  without  this  qualification  he 
would  be  violently  repelled  by  a  hidden  force. 
Thus  proof  was  made  of  all  those  who  presented 
themselves  to  replace  any  companions  of  the  order 
who  had  fallen. 


168  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

One  of  the  principal  seats,  that  of  Moraimt  of  Ire- 
land, had  been  vacant  ten  years,  and  his  name  still 
remained  over  it  ever  since  the  time  when  that  dis- 
tinguished champion  fell  beneath  the  sword  of  Sir 
Tristram.  Arthur  now  took  Tristram  by  the  hand 
and  led  him  to  that  seat.  Immediately  the  most 
melodious  sounds  were  heard,  and  exquisite  per- 
fumes filled  the  place  ;  the  name  of  Moraunt  disap- 
peared, and  that  of  Tristram  blazed  forth  in  light  1 
The  rare  modesty  of  Tristram  had  now  to  be  sub- 
jected to  a  severe  task ;  for  the  clerks  charged  with 
the  duty  of  preserving  the  annals  of  the  Round 
Table  attended,  and  he  was  required  by  the  law  of 
his  order  to  declare  what  feats  of  arms  he  had  ac- 
complished to  entitle  him  to  take  that  seat.  This 
ceremony  being  ended,  Tristram  received  the  con- 
gratulations of  all  his  companions.  Sir  Launcelot 
and  Guenever  took  the  occasion  to  speak  to  him  of 
the  fair  Isoude,  and  to  express  their  wish  that  some 
happy  chance  might  bring  her  to  the  kingdom  of 
Loegria. 

While  Tristram  was  thus  honored  and  caressed  at 
the  court  of  King  Arthur,  the  most  gloomy  and  ma- 
lignant jealousy  harassed  the  soul  of  Mark.  He 
could  not  look  upon  Isoude  without  remembering 
that  she  loved  Tristram,  and  the  good  fortune  of  his 
nephew  goaded  him  to  thoughts  of  vengeance.  He 
at  last  resolved  to  go  disguised  into  the  kingdom  of 
Loegria,  attack  Tristram  by  stealth,  and  put  him  to 
death.     Ho  took  witli  him  two  kuiglits,  brougl:t  up 


THE    ROUND    TABLE.  169 

in  his  court,  ^vho  lie  thought  were  devoted  to  him ; 
and,  not  willing  to  leave  Isoiidc  behind,  named  two 
of  her  maidens  to  attend  her,  together  with  her 
faithful  Brengwain,  and  made  them  accompany 
him. 

Having  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Camelot, 
Mark  imparted  his  plan  to  his  two  knights,  but  they 
rejected  it  with  horror;  nay,  more,  they  declared 
that  they  would  no  longer  remain  in  his  service ; 
and  left  him,  giving  him  reason  to  suppose  that  they 
should  repair  to  the  court  to  accuse  him  before  Ar- 
thur. It  was  necessary  for  Mark  to  meet  and  rebut 
their  accusation  ;  so,  leaving  Isoude  in  an  abbey,  he 
pursued  his  way  alone  to  Camelot. 

Mark  had  not  ridden  far  when  he  encountered  a 
party  of  knights  of  Arthur's  court,  and  would  have 
avoided  them,  for  he  knew  their  habit  of  challen- 
ging to  a  just  every  stranger  knight  whom  they  met. 
But  it  was  too  late.  They  had  seen  his  armor,  and 
recognized  him  as  a  Cornish  knight,  and  at  once  re- 
solved to  have  some  sport  with  him.  It  happened 
they  had  with  them  Daguenet,  King  Arthur's  fool, 
who,  though  deformed  and  weak  of  body,  was  not 
wanting  in  courage.  The  knights  as  Mark  ap- 
proached laid  their  plan  that  Daguenet  should  per- 
sonate Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  and  challenge  the 
Cornish  knight.  They  equipped  him  in  armor  be- 
longing to  one  of  their  number  who  was  ill,  and  sent 
him  forward  to  the  cross-road  to  defy  the  strange 
knight.  .   Mark,  who  saw  that  his  antagonist  was  by 


170  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

no  means  formidable  in  appearance,  was  not  dis- 
inclined to  the  combat;  but  when  the  dwarf  rode 
towards  him,  calling  out  that  he  was  Sir  Launcelot 
of  the  Lake,  his  fears  prevailed,  he  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  rode  awaj  at  full  speed,  pursued  by  the 
shouts  and  laughter  of  the  party. 

Meanwhile  Isoude,  remaining  at  the  abbey  with 
her  faithful  Brengwain,  found  her  only  amusement 
in  walking  occasionally  in  a  forest  adjoining  the  ab- 
bey. There,  on  the  brink  of  a  fountain  girdled  with 
trees,  she  thought  of  her  love,  and  sometimes  joined 
her  voice  and  her  harp  in  lays  reviving  the  memory 
of  its  pains  or  pleasures.  One  day  the  caitiff  knight, 
Breuse  the  Pitiless,  heard  her  voice,  concealed  him- 
self, and  drew  near.     She  sang :  — 

"  Sweet  silence,  shadowy  bower,  and  verdant  lair, 
Ye  court  my  troubled  spirit  to  repose, 
Wliilst  I,  such  dear  remembrance  rises  there, 
Awaken  every  echo  with  my  woes. 

"  Within  these  woods,  by  nature's  hand  arrayed, 

A  fountain  springs,  and  feeds  a  thousand  flowers  ; 
Ah !  how  my  groans  do  all  its  murmurs  aid  ! 
How  my  sad  eyes  do  swell  it  with  their  showers  ! 

"  What  doth  my  knight  the  while  1  to  him  is  given 
A  double  meed  ;  in  love  and  arms'  emprise. 
Him  the  Round  Table  elevates  to  heaven ! 

Tristram !  ah  me  !  he  hears  not  Isoude's  cries." 

Breuse  the  Pitiless,  who  like  most  other  caitiffs 
had  felt  the  weight  of  Tristram's  arm,  and  hated 
him  accordingly,  at  hearing  his  name  breathed  forth 


THE    ROUND    TABLE.  171 

by  the  beautiful  songstress,  impelled  by  a  double 
impulse,  rushed  forth  from  his  concealment  and 
laid  hands  on  his  victim.  Isoude  fainted,  and 
Brengwain  filled  the  air  with  her  shrieks.  Breuse 
carried  Isoude  to  the  place  where  he  had  left  his 
horse  ;  but  the  animal  had  got  away  from  his  bridle, 
and  was  at  some  distance.  He  was  obliged  to  lay 
down  his  fair  burden,  and  go  in  pursuit  of  his 
horse.  Just  then  a  knight  came  up,  drawn  by  the 
cries  of  Brengwain,  and  demanded  the  cause  of  her 
distress.  She  could  not  speak,  but  pointed  to  her 
mistress  lying  insensible  on  the  ground. 

Breuse  had  by  this  time  returned,  and  the  cries 
of  Brengwain,  renewed  at  seeing  him,  sufficiently 
showed  the  stranger  the  cause  of  the  distress.  Tris- 
tram spurred  his  horse  towards  Breuse,  who,  not  un- 
prepared, ran  to  the  encounter.  Breuse  was  un- 
horsed, and  lay  motionless,  pretending  to  be  dead ; 
but  when  the  stranger  knight  left  him  to  attend  to 
the  distressed  damsels,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and 
made  his  escape. 

The  knight  now  approached  Isoude,  gently  raised 
her  head,  drew  aside  the  golden  hair  which  covered 
her  countenance,  gazed  thereon  for  an  instant, 
uttered  a  cry,  and  fell  back  insensible.  Brengwain 
came ;  her  cares  soon  restored  her  mistress  to  life, 
and  they  then  turned  their  attention  to  the  fallen 
warrior.  They  raised  his  visor,  and  discovered  the 
countenance  of  Sir  Tristram.  Isoude  threw  herself 
on  the  body  of  her  lover,  and  bedewed  his  face  with 


172  KING    ARTnUR   AJ^D    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

her  tears.  Their  warmth  reviyed  the  knight,  and 
Tristram,  on  awaking,  found  himself  in  the  arms  of 
his  dear  Isoude. 

It  was  tlie  law  of  the  Round  Table,  that  each 
knight  after  his  admission  should  pass  the  next  ten 
days  in  quest  of  adventures,  during  which  time  his 
companions  might  meet  him  in  disguised  armor  and 
try  their  strength  with  him.  Tristram  had  now 
been  out  seven  days,  and  in  that  time  had  encoun- 
tered many  of  the  best  knights  of  the  Round  Table, 
and  acquitted  himself  with  honor.  During  the  re- 
maining three  days,  Isoude  remained  at  the  abbey, 
under  his  protection,  and  then  set  out  with  her 
maidens,  escorted  by  Sir  Tristram,  to  rejoin  King 
Mark  at  the  court  of  Camelot. 

Tliis  happy  journey  was  one  of  the  brightest 
epochs  in  the  lives  of  Tristram  and  Isoude.  Ho 
celebrated  it  by  a  lay  upon  the  harp  in  a  peculiar 
measure,  to  which  the  French  give  the  name  of 
Triolet, 

"  With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love, 
Ah  !  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead  ! 
How  blest  for  ever  thus  to  rove, 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love  ! 
As  she  wills,  I  live  and  move. 
And  cloudless  days  to  days  succeed : 
With  fair  Isoude,  and  with  love, 
Ah  !  how  sweet  the  life  I  lead  ! 

**  Journeying  on  from  break  of  day. 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair  ? 
Yon  green  turf  invites  to  jilay  ; 
Journeying  on  from  day  to  day, 


THE    ROUND    TABLE.  173 

Ah !  let  us  to  that  shade  away. 
Were  it  but  to  slumber  there  ! 
Journeying  on  from  break  of  day, 
Feel  you  not  fatigued,  my  fair  1 " 

They  arrived  at  Camelot,  where  Sir  Launcelot  re- 
ceived them  most  cordially.  Isoude  vras  introduced 
to  King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever,  who  wel- 
comed her  as  a  sister.  As  King  Mark  was  held  in 
arrest  under  the  accusation  of  the  two  Cornish 
knights,  Queen  Isoude  could  not  rejoin  her  husband, 
and  Sir  Launcelot  placed  his  castle  of  La  Joyeuse 
Garde  at  the  disposal  of  his  friends,  who  there  took 
up  their  abode. 

King  Mark,  who  found  himself  obliged  to  confess 
the  truth  of  the  charge  against  him,  or  to  clear  him- 
self by  combat  with  his  accusers,  preferred  the  for- 
mer, and  King  Arthur,  as  his  crime  had  not  been 
perpetrated,  remitted  the  penalty,  only  enjoining 
upon  him,  under  pain  of  his  signal  displeasure,  to 
lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  vengeance  against  his 
nephew.  In  the  presence  of  the  king  and  his  court, 
all  parties  were  formally  reconciled ;  Mark  and  his 
queen  departed  for  their  home,  and  Tristram  re- 
mained at  Arthur's  court. 


15* 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

SIR  PALAMEDES. 

While  Sir  Tristram  and  the  fair  Isoude  abode  yet 
at  La  Jojeuse  Garde,  Sir  Tristram  rode  forth  one 
day,  without  armor,  having  no  weapon  but  his  spear 
and  his  sword.  And  as  he  rode  he  came  to  a  place 
where  he  saw  two  knights  in  battle,  and  one  of  them 
had  gotten  the  better,  and  the  other  lay  overthrown. 
The  knight  who  had  the  better  was  Sir  Palamedes. 
When  Sir  Palamedes  knew  Sir  Tristram,  he  cried 
out,  "  Sir  Tristram,  now  we  be  met,  and  ere  we  de- 
part we  will  redress  our  old  wrongs."  "As  for 
that,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  there  never  yet  was 
Cliristian  man  that  might  make  his  boast  that  I 
ever  fled  from  him,  and  thou  that  art  a  Saracen 
shalt  never  say  that  of  me."  And  therewith  Sir 
Tristram  made  his  horse  to  run,  and  with  all  his 
might  came  straight  upon  Sir  Palamedes,  and  broke 
his  spear  upon  him.  Then  he  drew  his  sword  and 
struck  at  Sir  Palamedes  six  great  strokes,  upon  his 
helm.  Sir  Palamedes  saw  that  Sir  Tristram  had 
not  his  armor  on,  and  he  marvelled  at  his  rashness 


SIR   PALAMEDES.  175 

and  his  great  folly ;  and  said  to  himself,  ''  If  I  meet 
and  slay  him,  I  am  shamed  -wheresoever  I  go." 
Then  Sir  Tristram  cried  out  and  said,  "  Thon  cow- 
ard knight,  why  wilt  thou  not  do  battle  with  me  ?  for 
have  thou  no  doubt  I  shall  endure  all  thy  malice." 
''  Ah,  Sir  Tristram ! "  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  thou 
knowest  I  may  not  fight  with  thee  for  shame ;  for 
thou  art  here  naked,  and  I  am  armed ;  now  I  re- 
quire that  thou  answer  me  a  question  that  I  shall 
ask  you."  "  Tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  Sir  Tristram. 
"  I  put  the  case,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  that  you 
were  well  armed,  and  I  naked  as  ye  be ;  what  would 
you  do  to  me  now,  by  your  true  knighthood  ? " 
"  Ah  !  "  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  now  I  understand  thee 
well,  Sir  Palamedes ;  and,  as  God  me  bless,  what  I 
shall  say  shall  not  be  said  for  fear  that  I  have  of 
thee.  But  if  it  were  so,  thou  shouldest  depart  from 
me,  for  I  would  not  have  to  do  with  thee."  ''  No 
more  will  I  with  thee,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  and 
therefore  ride  forth  on  thy  way."  "  As  for  that,  I 
may  choose,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  either  to  ride  or 
to  abide.  But,  Sir  Palamedes,  I  marvel  at  one 
thing, — that  thou  art  so  good  a  knight,  yet  that  thou 
wilt  not  be  christened."  "  As  for  that,"  said  Sir 
Palamedes,  "  I  may  not  yet  be  christened,  for  a  vow 
which  I  made  many  years  ago  ;  yet  in  my  heart  I  be- 
lieve in  our  Saviour  and  his  mild  mother,  Mary  ;  but 
I  have  yet  one  battle  to  do,  and  when  that  is  done 
I  will  be  christened,  with  a  good  will."  "  By  my 
liead,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "-  as  for  that  one  battle, 


176  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

thou  shalt  seek  it  no  longer ;  for  yonder  is  a  knight, 
whom  you  have  smitten  down.  Now  help  me  to  be 
clothed  in  his  armor,  and  I  will  soon  fulfil  thy 
vow."  "  As  ye  will,"  said  Sir  Palamedes,  "  so 
shall  it  be."  So  they  rode  both  unto  that  knight 
that  sat  on  a  bank ;  and  Sir  Tristram  saluted  him, 
and  he  full  weakly  saluted  him  again.  "  Sir," 
said  Sir  Tristram,  "  I  pray  you  to  lend  me  your 
whole  armor ;  for  I  am  unarmed,  and  I  must  do  bat- 
tle with  this  knight."  "  Sir,"  said  the  hurt  knight, 
"  you  shall  have  it,  with  a  right  good  will."  Then 
Sir  Tristram  unarmed  Sir  Galleron,  for  that  was  the 
name  of  the  hurt  knight,  and  he  as  well  as  he  could 
helped  to  arm  Sir  Tristram.  Then  Sir  Tristram 
mounted  upon  his  own  horse,  and  in  his  hand  he 
took  Sir  Galleron' s  spear.  Thereupon  Sir  Pala- 
medes was  ready,  and  so  they  came  hurling  to- 
gether, and  each  smote  the  other  in  the  midst  of 
their  shields.  Sir  Palamedes'  spear  broke,  and  Sir 
Tristram  smote  down  the  horse.  Then  Sir  Pala- 
medes leapt  from  his  horse,  and  drew  out  his  sword. 
That  saw  Sir  Tristram,  and  therewith  he  alighted 
and  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree.  Then  they  came  to- 
gether as  two  wild  beasts,  lashing  the  one  on  the 
other,  and  so  fought  more  than  two  hours ;  and  often 
Sir  Tristram  smote  such  strokes  at  Sir  Palamedes 
that  he  made  him  to  kneel,  and  Sir  Palamedes 
broke  away  Sir  Tristram's  shield,  and  wounded 
him.  Then  Sir  Tristram  was  wroth  out  of  meas- 
ure, and  he  rushed  to  Sir  Palamedes  and  wounded 


SIR   PALAMEDES.  177 

him  passing  sore  through  the  shoulder,  and  by  for- 
tune smote  Sir  Palamedes'  sword  out  of  his  hand. 
And  if  Sir  Palamedes  had  stooped  for  his  sword.  Sir 
Tristram  had  slain  him.  Then  Sir  Palamedes  stood 
and  beheld  his  sword  with  a  full  sorrowful  heart. 
^'  Now,"  said  Sir  Trisflbam,  "  I  have  thee  at  a  van- 
tage, as  thou  liadst  me  to-day  ;  but  it  shall  never  be 
said,  in  court,  or  among  good  knights,  that  Sir  Tris- 
tram did  slay  any  knight  that  was  weaponless ; 
therefore  take  thou  thy  sword,  and  let  us  fight  this 
battle  to  the  end."  Then  spoke  Sir  Palamedes  to 
Sir  Tristram :  ''  I  have  no  wish  to  fight  this  battle 
any  more.  The  offence  that  I  have  done  unto  you 
is  not  so  great  but  that,  if  it  please  you,  we  may  be 
friends.  All  that  I  have  offended  is  for  the  love  of 
the  queen,  La  Belle  Isoude,  and  I  dare  maintain 
that  she  is  peerless  among  ladies ;  and  for  that  of- 
fence ye  have  given  me  many  grievous  and  sad 
strokes,  and  some  I  have  given  you  again.  Where- 
fore I  require  you,  my  lord  Sir  Tristram,  forgive  me 
all  that  I  have  offended  you,  and  this  day  have  me 
unto  the  next  church ;  and  first  I  will  be  clean 
confessed,  and  after  that  see  you  that  I  be  truly 
baptized,  and  then  we  will  ride  together  unto  the 
court  of  my  lord.  King  Arthur,  so  that  we  may  be 
there  at  the  feast  of  Pentecost."  "  Now  take  your 
horse,"  said  Sir  Tristram,  "  and  as  you  have  said, 
so  shall  it  be  done."  So  they  took  their  horses,  and 
Sir  Galleron  rode  with  them.  When  they  came  to 
the  church  of  Carlisle,  tlie  bishop  commanded  to  fill 


178  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

a  great  vessel  with  water;  and  when  he  had  lial- 
lowed  it,  he  tlien  confessed  Sir  Palamedes  clean,  and 
christened  him,  and  Sir  Tristram  and  Sir  Galleron 
were  his  godfathers.  Then  soon  after  they  de- 
parted, and  rode  towards  Camelot,  where  the  nohle 
King  Arthur  and  Queen  Guftiever  were  keeping  a 
court  royal.  And  the  king  and  all  the  court  were 
glad  that  Sir  Palamedes  was  christened.  Then  Sir 
Tristram  returned  again  to  La  Joyeuse  Garde,  and 
Sir  Palamedes  went  his  way. 

Not  long  after  these  events  Sir  Gawain  returned 
from  Brittany,  and  related  to  King  Arthur  the  ad- 
venture which  befell  him  in  the  forest  of  Breciliande, 
how  Merlin  had  there  spoken  to  him,  and  enjohied 
him  to  charge  the  king  to  go  without  delay  upon 
the  quest  of  the  Holy  Greal.  While  King  Arthur 
deliberated,  Tristram  determined  to  enter  upon  the 
quest,  and  the  more  readily,  as  it  was  well  known  to 
him  that  this  holy  adventure  would,  if  achieved, 
procure  him  the  pardon  of  all  his  sins.  He  imme- 
diately departed  for  the  kingdom  of  Brittany,  hop- 
ing there  to  obtain  from  Merlin  counsel  as  to  the 
proper  course  to  pursue  to  insure  success. 


CHAPTER     XVII. 


SIR   TRISTRAM. 


On  arriving  in  Brittany  Tristram  found  King 
Hoel  engaged  in  a  war  with  a  rebellious  vassal,  and 
hard  pressed  by  his  enemy.  His  best  knights  had 
fallen  in  a  late  battle,  and  he  knew  not  where  to 
turn  for  assistance.  Tristram  volunteered  his  aid. 
It  was  accepted ;  and  the  army  of  Hoel,  led  by  Tris- 
tram, and  inspired  by  his  example,  gained  a  com- 
plete victory.  The  king,  penetrated  by  the  most 
lively  sentiments  of  gratitude,  and  having  informed 
himself  of  Tristram's  birth,  offered  him  his  daughter 
in  marriage.  The  princess  was  beautiful  and  ac- 
complished, and  bore  the  same  name  with  the  Queen 
of  Cornwall ;  but  this  one  is  designated  by  the  Ro- 
mancers as  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands,  to  distin- 
guish her  from  Isoude  the  Fair. 

How  can  we  describe  the  conflict  that  agitated 
the  heart  of  Tristram  ?  He  adored  the  first  Isoude, 
but  his  love  for  her  was  hopeless,  and  not  unaccom- 
panied by  remorse.  Moreover,  the  sacred  quest  on 
wliich  he  had  now  entered  demanded  of  him  perfect 


180  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

purity  of  life.  It  seemed  as  if  a  happy  destiny  had 
provided  for  him,  in  the  charming  princess  Isoudc  of 
the  White  Hands,  the  best  security  for  all  his  good 
resolutions.  This  last  reflection  determined  him. 
They  were  married,  and  passed  some  months  in 
tranquil  happiness  at  the  court  of  King  Hoel.  The 
pleasure  which  Tristram  felt  in  his  wife's  society 
increased  day  by  day.  An  inward  grace  seemed  to 
stir  within  him  from  the  moment  when  he  took  the 
oath  to  go  on  the  quest  of  the  Holy  Greal ;  it  seemed 
even  to  triumph  over  the  power  of  the  magic  love- 
potion. 

The  war,  which  had  been  quelled  for  a  time,  now 
burst  out  anew.  Tristram,  as  usual,  was  foremost 
in  every  danger.  The  enemy  was  worsted  in  suc- 
cessive conflicts,  and  at  last  shut  himself  up  in  his 
principal  city.  Tristram  led  on  the  attack  of  the 
city.  As  he  mounted  a  ladder  to  scale  the  walls, 
he  was  struck  on  the  head  by  a  fragment  of  rock, 
which  the  besieged  threw  down  upon  him.  It  bore 
him  to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  insensible. 

As  soon  as  he  recovered  consciousness,  he  de- 
manded to  be  carried  to  his  wife.  The  princess, 
skilled  in  the  art  of  surgery,  would  not  suffer  any 
one  but  herself  to  touch  her  beloved  husband.  Her 
fair  hands  bound  up  his  wounds ;  Tristram  kissed 
them  with  gratitude,  which  began  to  grow  into  love. 
At  first  the  devoted  cares  of  Isoude  seemed  to  meet 
with  great  success ;  but  after  a  while  these  flattering 
appearances  vanished,  and,  in  spite  of  all  her  care, 
the  malady  grew  more  serious  day  by  day. 


SIR    TRISTRAM.  181 

In  this  perplexity,  an  old  squire  of  Tristram's 
reminded  liis  master  that  the  princess  of  Ireland, 
afterwards  queen  of  Cornwall,  had  once  cured  him 
under  circumstances  quite  as  discouraging.  He 
called  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  to  him,  told  her 
of  his  former  cure,  added  that  he  believed  that  the 
Queen  Isoude  could  heal  him,  and  that  he  felt  sure 
that  she  would  come  to  his  relief,  if  sent  for. 

Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that  Gesnes, 
a  trusty  man  and  skilful  navigator,  should  be  sent 
to  Cornwall.  Tristram  called  him,  and,  giving  him 
a  ring,  "Take  this,"  he  said,  "  to  the  Queen  of 
Cornwall.  Tell  her  that  Tristram,  near  to  death,- 
•demands  her  aid.  If  you  succeed  in  bringing  her 
with  you,  place  white  sails  to  your  vessel  on  your 
return,  that  we  may  know  of  your  success  when  the 
vessel  first  heaves  in  sight.  But  if  Queen  Isoude 
refuses,  put  on  black  sails  ;  they  will  be  the  presage 
of  my  impending  death." 

Gesnes  performed  his  mission  successfully.  King 
Mark  happened  to  be  absent  from  liis  capital,  and 
the  queen  readily  consented  to  return  with  the  bark 
to  Brittany.  Gesnes  clothed  his  vessel  in  the  whit- 
est of  sails,  and  sped  his  way  back  to  Brittany. 

Meantime  the  wound  of  Tristram  grew  more  des- 
perate day  by  day.  His  strength,  quite  prostrated, 
no  longer  permitted  liim  to  be  carried  to  the  seaside 
daily,  as  had  been  his  custom  from  the  first  moment 
when  it  was  possible  for  the  bark  to  be  on  the  way 
homeward.  He  called  a  young  damsel,  and  gave 
ic 


182  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

her  ill  charge  to  keep  watch  in  the  direction  of  Corn- 
wall, and  to  come  and  tell  him  the  color  of  the  sails 
of  the  first  vessel  she  should  see  approaching. 

When  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  consented  that 
the  queen  of  Cornwall  should  be  sent  for,  she  had 
not  known  all  the  reasons  which  she  had  for  fearing 
the  influence  which  renewed  intercourse  with  that 
princess  might  have  on  her  own  happiness.  She 
had  now  learned  more,  and  felt  the  danger  more 
keenly.  She  thought,  if  she  could  only  keep  the 
knowledge  of  the  queen's  arrival  from  her  husband, 
she  might  employ  in  his  service  any  resources  which 
'her  skill  could  supply,  and  still  avert  the  dangers 
which  she  apprehended.  When  the  vessel  was  seen, 
approaching,  with  its  white  sails  sparkling  in  the 
sun,  the  damsel,  by  command  of  her  mistress,  car- 
ried word  to  Tristram  that  the  sails  were  black. 

Tristram,  penetrated  with  inexpressible  grief, 
breathed  a  profound  sigh,  turned  away  his  face,  and 
said,  "  Alas,  my  beloved !  we  shall  never  see  one 
another  again  !  "  Then  he  commended  himself  to 
God,  and  breathed  his  last. 

The  death  of  Tristram  was  the  first  intelligence 
which  the  queen  of  Cornwall  heard  on  landing. 
She  was  conducted  almost  senseless  into  the  cham- 
ber of  Tristram,  and  expired  holding  him  in  her 
arms. 

Tristram,  before  his  death,  had  requested  that  his 
body  should  be  sent  to  Cornwall,  and  that  his  sword, 
with  a  letter  he  had  written,  should  be  delivered  to 


SIR   TRISTRAM.  0  ^l^jlife^'ClSS 

King  Mark.  The  remains  of  Tristram  and  Isoude 
were  embarked  in  a  vessel,  along  with  the  sword, 
which  was  presented  to  the  king  of  Cornwall.  He 
was  melted  with  tenderness  when  he  saw  the  weapon 
which  slew  Moraiint  of  Ireland, — which  had  so  often 
saved  his  life,  and  redeemed  the  honor  of  his  king- 
dom. In  the  letter  Tristram  begged  pardon  of  his 
uncle,  and  related  the  story  of  the  amorous  draught. 
Mark  ordered  the  lovers  to  be  buried  in  his  own 
chapel.  Prom  the  tomb  of  Tristram  there  sprung 
a  vine,  which  went  along  the  walls,  and  descended 
into  the  grave  of  the  queen.  It  was  cut  down  three 
times,  but  each  time  sprung  up  again  more  vigorous 
than  before,  and  this  wonderful  plant  has  ever  since 
shaded  the  tombs  of  Tristram  and  Isoude. 


Spenser  introduces  Sir  Tristram  in  his  Faery 
Queene.  In  Book  VI.  Canto  ii.  Sir  Calidore  en- 
counters in  the  forest  a  young  hunter,  whom  he 
thus  describes :  — 

"  Him  steadfastly  he  marked,  and  saw  to  be 
A  goodly  youth  of  amiable  grace, 
Yet  but  a  slender  slip,  that  scarce  did  sec 
Yet  seventeen  yeares  ;  but  tall  and  faire  of  face. 
That  sure  he  deemed  him  borne  of  noble  race. 
All  in  a  woodman's  jacket  he  was  clad 
Of  Lincoln  greene,  belayed  with  silver  lace  ; 
And  on  his  head  an  hood  with  aglets  ^  sprad. 

And  by  his  side  his  hunter's  home  he  hanging  had. 

*  Aglets,  points  or  tags. 


184  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  Buskins  he  wore  of  costliest  cordawayne, 
Pinckt  upon  gold,  and  paled  part  per  part,* 
As  then  the  guize  was  for  each  gentle  swayne 
In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  tremhling  dart. 
Whose  fellow  he  before  had  sent  apart ; 
And  in  his  left  he  held  a  sharp  bore-speare, 
With  which  he  wont  to  launch  the  salvage  heart 
Of  many  a  lyon,  and  of  many  a  beare, 

That  first  unto  his  hand  in  chase  did  happen  neare." 

*  Pinckt  upon  gold^  ^c,   adorned  with  golden  points,  or  eyelets, 
and  regularly  intersected  with  stripes.     Paled,  (in  heraldry,)  striped. 


/ 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 


PERCEVAL. 


The  father  and  two  elder  brothers  of  Perceval 
had  fallen  in  battle  or  tournaments,  and  hence,  as 
the  last  hope  of  his  familj,  his  mother  retired  with 
him  into  a  solitary  region,  where  he  was  brought  up 
in  total  ignorance  of  arms  and  chivalry.  He  was 
allowed  no  weapon  but  "  a  lyttel  Scots  spere," 
which  was  the  only  thing  of  all  "  her  lordes  faire 
gere"  that  his  mother  carried  to  the  wood  with  her. 
In  the  use  of  this  he  became  so  skilful,  that  he  could 
kill  with  it  not  only  the  animals  of  the  chase  for 
her  table,  but  even  birds  on  the  wing.  At  length, 
however,  Perceval  was  roused  to  a  desire  of  military 
renown  by  seeing  in  the  forest  five  knights  who  were 
in  complete  armor.  He  said  to  his  mother,  ''  Moth- 
er, what  are  those  yonder  ?  "  "  They  are  angels, 
my  son,"  said  she.  "  By  my  faith,  I  wiH  go  and 
become  an  angel  with  them."  And  Perceval  went 
to  the  road  and  met  them.  "  Tell  me  good  lad," 
said  one  of  them,  ''  sawest  thou  a  knight  pass  this 
way  either  to-day  or  yesterday  ?  "     ^'1  know  not," 

16=^ 


186  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

said  he,  "  what  a  knight  is."  "  Such  an  one  as  I 
am,"  said  the  knight.  "  If  thoii  wilt  tell  me  what  I 
ask  thee,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou  askest  me." 
"  Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  said  Sir  Owain,  for  that  was 
the  knight's  name.  "  What  is  this  ?  "  demanded 
Perceval,  touching  the  saddle.  ''It  is  a  saddle," 
said  Owain.  Then  he  asked  about  all  the  accoutre- 
ments which  he  saw  upon  the  men  and  the  horses, 
and  about  the  arms,  and  what  they  were  for,  and 
how  they  were  used.  And  Sir  Owain  showed  him 
all  those  things  fully.  And  Perceval  in  return  gave 
him  such  information  as  he  had. 

Then  Perceval  returned  to  his  mother,  and  said  to 
her,  ''  Mother,  those  were  not  angels,  but  honorable 
knights."  Then  his  mother  swooned  away.  And 
Perceval  went  to  the  place  where  they  kept  the 
horses  that  carried  firewood  and  provisions  for  the 
castle,  and  he  took  a  bony,  piebald  horse,  which 
seemed  to  him  the  strongest  of  them.  And  he 
pressed  a  pack  into  the  form  of  a  saddle,  and  with 
twisted  twigs  he  imitated  the  trappings  which  he 
had  seen  upon  the  horses.  When  he  came  again  to 
his  mother,  the  countess  had  recovered  from  her 
swoon.  ''  My  son,"  said  she,  "  desirest  thou  to  ride 
forth?"  ,"Yes,  with  thy  leave,"  said  he.  "Go 
forward  then,"  she  said,  "  to  the  court  of  Arthur, 
where  there  are  the  best  and  the  noblest  and  the 
most  bountiful  of  men,  and  tell  him  thou  art  Perce- 
val, the  son  of  Pelenore,  and  ask  of  liim  to  bestow 
knidithood  on  thee.     And   wlienevcr  thou  seest  a 


PERCEVAL.  187 

church,  repeat  there  thy  pater-noster ;  and  if  thou 
see  meat  and  drink,  and  hast  need  of  them,  thou 
mayest  take  them.  If  thou  hear  an  outcry  of  one 
in  distress,  proceed  toward  it,  especially  if  it  be  the 
cry  of  a  woman,  and  render  her  what  service  thou 
canst.  If  thou  see  a  fair  jewel,  win  it,  for  thus 
shalt  thou  acquire  fame ;  yet  freely  give  it  to  an- 
other, for  thus  thou  shalt  obtain  praise.  If  thou 
see  a  fair  woman,  pay  court  to  her,  for  thus  thou 
wilt  obtain  love." 

After  this  discourse  Perceval  mounted  the  horse, 
and,  taking  a  number  of  sharp-pointed  sticks  in  his 
hand,  he  rode  forth.  And  he  rode  far  in  the  woody 
wilderness  without  food  or  drink.  At  last  he  came 
to  an  opening  in  the  wood,  where  he  saw  a  tent,  and 
as  he  thought  it  might  be  a  church  he  said  his  pater- 
noster to  it.  And  he  went  towards  it ;  and  the  door 
of  the  tent  was  open.  And  Perceval  dismounted 
and  entered  the  tent.  In  the  tent  he  found  a 
maiden  sitting,  with  a  golden  frontlet  on  her  fore- 
head and  a  gold  ring  on  her  hand.  And  Perceval 
said,  "  Maiden,  I  salute  you,  for  my  mother  told  me 
whenever  I  met  a  lady  I  must  respectfully  salute 
her."  Perceiving  in  one  corner  of  the  tent  some 
food,  two  flasks  full  of  wine,  and  some  boar's-flesh 
roasted,  he  said,  "  My  mother  told  me,  wherever  I 
saw  meat  and  drink,  to  take  it."  And  he  ate  greed- 
ily, for  he  was  very  hungry.  The  maiden  said, 
''  Sir,  thou  hadst  best  go  quickly  from  here,  for  fear 
that  my  friends  should  come,  and  evil  should  befall 


188  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

you."  But  Perceval  said,  "My  mother  told  me, 
wheresoever  I  saw  a  fair  jewel,  to  take  it,"  and  he 
took  the  gold  ring  from  her  finger,  and  put  it  on  his 
own ;  and  he  gave  the  maiden  his  own  ring  in  ex- 
change for  her's ;  then  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  away. 

Perceval  journeyed  on  till  he  arrived  at  Arthur's 
court.  And  it  so  happened  that  just  at  that  time 
an  uncourteous  knight  had  offered  Queen  Guenever 
a  gross  insult.  For  when  her  page  was  serving  the 
queen  with  a  golden  goblet,  this  knight  struck  the 
arm  of  the  page  and  dashed  the  wine  in  the  queen's 
face  and  over  her  stomacher.  Then  he  said,  "  If 
any  have  boldness  to  avenge  this  insult  to  Guene- 
ver, let  him  follow  me  to  the  meadow."  So  the 
knight  took  his  horse  and  rode  to  the  meadow,  car- 
rying away  the  golden  goblet.  And  all  the  house- 
liold  hung  down  their  heads,  and  no  one  offered  to 
follow  the  knight  to  take  vengeance  upon  liim.  For 
it  seemed  to  them  that  no  one  would  have  ventured 
on  so  daring  an  outrage  unless  he  possessed  such 
powers,  through  magic  or  charms,  that  none  could 
be  able  to  punish  him.  Just  then,  behold,  Perceval 
entered  the  hall  upon  the  bony,  piebald  horse,  with 
his  uncouth  trappings.  In  the  centre  of  the  hall 
stood  Kay  the  Seneschal.  "Tell  me,  tall  man," 
said  Perceval,  "  is  that  Arthur  yonder?  "  "  What 
wouldst  thou  with  Arthur?"  asked  Kay.  "My 
mother  told  me  to  go  to  Arthur  and  receive  knight- 
hood from  him."     "  By  my  faith,"  said  he,  "thou 


PERCEVAL.  189 

art  all  too  meanly  equipped  with  liorse  and  with 
arms."  Then  all  the  household  began  to  jeer  and 
laugh  at  him.  But  there  was  a  certain  damsel  who 
had  been  a  whole  year  at  Arthur's  court,  and  had 
never  been  known  to  smile.  And  the  king's  fool* 
had  said  that  this  damsel  would  not  smile  till  she 
had  seen  him  who  would  be  the  flower  of  chivalry. 
Now  this  damsel  came  up  to  Perceval  and  told  him, 
smiling,  that,  if  he  lived,  he  would  be  one  of  the 
bravest  and  best  of  knights.  "-  Truly,"  said  Kay, 
"  thou  art  ill  taught  to  remain  a  year  at  Arthur's 
court,  with  choice  of  society,  and  smile  on  no  one, 
and  now  before  the  face  of  Arthur  and  all  his 
knights  to  call  such  a  man  as  this  the  flower  of 
knighthood";  and  he  gave  her  a  box  on  the  ear, 
that  she  fell  senseless  to  the  ground.  Then  said 
Kay  to  Perceval,  "  Go  after  the  knight  who  went 
hence  to  the  meadow,  overthrow  him  and  recover 
the  golden  goblet,  and  possess  thyself  of  his  horse 
and  arms,  and  thou  shalt  have  knighthood."  "  I 
will  do  so,  tall  man,"  said  Perceval.  So  he  turned 
his  horse's  head  toward  the  meadow.  And  when  he 
came  there,  the  knight  was  riding  up  and  down, 
proud  of  his  strength  and  valor  and  noble  mien. 


*  A  fool  was  a  common  appendage  of  the  courts  of  those  days 
when  this  romance  was  written.  A  fool  was  the  ornament  held  in 
next  estimation  to  a  dwarf.  He  wore  a  white  dress  with  a  yellow 
bonnet,  and  carried  a  bell  or  hawhle  in  liis  hand.  Though  called 
a  fool,  his  words  were  often  weighed  and  remembered  as  if  there  were 
a  sort  of  oracular  meaning  in  them. 


IDO  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  knight,  "  didst  thou  see  any 
one  coming  after  me  from  the  court  ?  "  "  The  tall 
man  that  was  there,"  said  Perceval,  ''  told  me  to 
come  and  overthrow  thee,  and  to  take  from  thee  the 
goblet  and  thy  horse  and  armor  for  myself."  ''  Si- 
lence!"  said  the  knight ;  "  go  back  to  the  court,  and 
tell  Arthur  either  to  come  himself,  or  to  send  some 
other  to  fight  with  me  ;  and  unless  he  do  so  quickly, 
I  will  not  wait  for  him."  "  By  my  faith,"  said  Per- 
ceval, "  choose  thou  whether  it  shall  be  willingly  or 
unwillingly,  for  I  will  have  the  horse  and  the  arms 
and  the  goblet."  Upon  this  the  knight  ran  at  him 
furiously,  and  struck  him  a  violent  blow  with  the 
shaft  of  his  spear,  between  the  neck  and  the  shoul- 
der. "  Ha,  ha,  lad !  "  said  Perceval, ''  my  mother's 
servants  were  not  used  to  play  with  me  in  this  wise ; 
so  thus  will  I  play  with  thee."  And  he  threw  at 
him  one  of  his  sharp-pointed  sticks,  and  it  struck 
him  in  the  eye,  and  came  out  at  the  back  of  his 
head,  so  that  he  fell  down  lifeless. 

"  Yerily,"  said  Sir  Owain,  the  son  of  Urien,  to 
Kay  the  Seneschal,  "  thou  wast  ill  advised  to  send 
that  madman  after  the  knight,  for  he  must  either 
be  overthrown  or  flee,  and  either  way  it  will  be  a 
disgrace  to  Arthur  and  his  warriors ;  therefore  will 
I  go  to  see  what  has  befallen  him."  So  Sir  Owain 
went  to  the  meadow,  and  he  found  Perceval  trying 
in  vain  to  get  the  dead  knight's  armor  oif,  in  order 
to  clothe  himself  with  it.  Sir  Owain  unfastened  the 
armor,  and  helped  Perceval  to  put  it  on,  and  taught 


PERCEVAL.  101 

him  how  to  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  and  use  the 
spur ;  for  Perceval  had  never  used  stirrup  nor  spur, 
but  rode  without  saddle,  and  urged  on  his  horse 
with  a  stick.  Then  Owain  would  have  had  him  re- 
turn to  the  court  to  receive  the  praise  that  was  his 
due ;  but  Perceval  said,  "  I  will  not  come  to  the 
court  till  I  have  encountered  the  tall  man  that  is 
there,  to  revenge  the  injury  he  did  to  the  maiden. 
But  take  thou  the  goblet  to  Queen  Guenever,  and 
tell  King  Arthur  that,  wherever  I  am,  I  will  be  his 
vassal,  and  will  do  him  what  profit  and  service  I 
can."  And  Sir  Owain  went  back  to  the  court,  and 
related  all  these  things  to  Arthur  and  Guenever,  and 
to  all  the  household. 

And  Perceval  rode  forward.  And  he  came  to  a 
lake,  on  the  side  of  which  was  a  fair  castle,  and  on 
the  border  of  the  lake  he  saw  a  hoary-headed  man 
sitting  upon  a  velvet  cushion,  and  his  attendants 
were  fishing  in  the  lake.  When  the  hoary-headed 
man  beheld  Perceval  approaching,  he  arose  and  went 
into  the  castle.  Perceval  rode  to  the  castle,  and  the 
door  was  open,  and  he  entered  the  hall.  And  the 
hoary-headed  man  received  Perceval  courteously, 
and  asked  him  to  sit  by  him  on  the  cushion.  When 
it  was  time,  the  tables  were  set,  and  they  went  to 
meat.  And  when  they  had  finished  their  meat,  the 
hoary-headed  man  asked  Perceval  if  he  knew  how 
to  fight  with  the  sword.  "  I  know  not,"  said  Perce- 
val, "-  but  were  I  to  be  taught,  doubtless  I  should." 
And  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  him,  "  I  am  thy 


192  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

uncle,  thy  mother's  brother ;  I  am  called  King  Pe- 
cheur.*  Thou  shalt  remain  with  me  a  space,  in 
order  to  learn  the  manners  and  customs  of  different 
countries,  and  courtesy  and  noble  bearing.  And 
this  do  thou  remember,  If  thou  seest  aught  to 
cause  thy  wonder,  ask  not  the  meaning  of  it ;  if  no 
one  has  the  courtesy  to  inform  thee,  the  reproach 
will  not  fall  upon  thee,  but  upon  me  that  am  thy 
teacher."  While  Perceval  and  his  uncle  discoursed 
together,  Perceval  beheld  two  youths  enter  the  hall, 
bearing  a  golden  cup  and  a  spear  of  mighty  size, 
with  blood  dropping  from  its  point  to  the  ground. 
And  when  all  the  company  saw  this,  they  began  to 
weep  and  lament.  But  for  all  that,  the  man  did 
not  break  off  his  discourse  with  Perceval.  And  as 
he  did  not  tell  him  the  meaning  of  what  he  saw,  he 
forbore  to  ask  him  concerning  it.  Now  the  cup  that 
Perceval  saw  was  the  Sangreal,  and  the  spear  the 
sacred  spear ;  and  afterwards  King  Pecheur  removed 
with  those  sacred  relics  into  a  far  country. 
*  *  *•  *  * 

One  evening  Perceval  entered  a  valley,  and  came 
to  a  hermit's  cell ;  and  the  hermit  welcomed  him 
gladly,  and  there  he  spent  the  night.  And  in  the 
morning  he  arose,  and  when  he  went  forth,  behold  ! 
a  shower  of  snow  had  fallen  in  the  night,  and  a  hawk 
had  killed  a  wild-fowl  in  front  of  the  cell.  And  the 
noise  of  the  horse  had  scared  the  hawk  away,  and  a 

*  The  word  means  both  fiaher  and  smnet\ 


PERCEVAL.  193 

raven  alighted  on  the  bird.  And  Perceval  stood  and 
compared  the  blackness  of  the  raven  and  the  white- 
ness of  the  snow  and  the  redness  of  the  blood  to  tlie 
hair  of  the  lady  that  best  he  loved,  which  was  black- 
er than  jet,  and  to  her  skin,  which  was  whiter  than 
the  snow,  and  to  the  two  red  spots  upon  her  cheeks, 
which  were  redder  than  the  blood  upon  the  snow. 

Now  Arthur  and  his  household  were  in  search 
of  Perceval,  and  by  chance  they  came  that  way. 
"  Know  ye,"  said  Arthur,  "  who  is  the  knight  with 
the  long  spear  that  stands  by  the  brook  up  yon- 
der ?  "  "  Lord,"  said  one  of  them,  "  I  will  go  and 
learn  who  he  is."  So  the  youth  came  to  the  place 
where  Perceval  was,  and  asked  him  what  he  did 
thus,  and  who  he  was.  But  Perceval  was  so  intent 
upon  his  thought  that  he  gave  him  no  answer. 
Then  the  youth  thrust  at  Perceval  with  his  lance ; 
and  Perceval  turned  upon  him,  and  struck  him  to 
the  ground.  And  when  the  youth  returned  to  the 
king,  and  told  how  rudely  he  had  been  treated.  Sir 
Kay  said,  "  I  will  go  myself."  And  when  he  greet- 
ed Perceval,  and  got  no  answer,  he  spoke  to  him 
rudely  and  angrily.  And  Perceval  thrust  at  him 
with  his  lance,  and  cast  him  down  so  that  he  broke 
his  arm  and  his  shoulder-blade.  And  while  he  lay 
thus  stunned,  his  horse  returned  back  at  a  wild  and 
prancing  pace. 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  surnamed  the  Golden- 
Tongued,  because  he  was  the  most  courteous 
knight  in  Arthur's  court :  ''  It  is  not  fitting  that 

17 


194  KING    AKTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

any  should  disturb  an  honorable  knight  from  his 
thought  unadvisedly ;  for  either  he  is  pondering 
some  damage  that  he  has  sustained,  or  he  is  think- 
ing of  the  lady  whom  best  he  loves.  If  it  seem  well 
to  thee,  lord,  I  will  go  and  see  if  this  knight  has 
changed  from  his  thought,  and  if  he  has,  I  will  ask 
him  courteously  to  come  and  visit  thee." 

And  Perceval  was  resting  on  the  shaft  of  his 
spear,  pondering  the  same  thought,  and  Sir  Gawain 
came  to  him,  and  said :  "  If  I  thought  it  would  be 
as  agreeable  to  thee  as  it  would  be  to  me,  I  would 
converse  with  thee.  I  have  also  a  message  from 
Arthur  unto  thee,  to  pray  thee  to  come  and  visit 
him.  And  two  men  have  been  before  on  this  er- 
rand." "That  is  true,"  said  Perceval;  "  and  un- 
courteously  they  came.  They  attacked  me,  and  I 
was  annoyed  thereat."  Then  he  told  him  the 
thought  that  occupied  his  mind,  and  Gawain  said, 
"-  This  was  not  an  ungentle  thought,  and  I  should 
marvel  if  it  were  pleasant  for  thee  to  be  drawn  from 
it."  Then  said  Perceval,  "  Tell  me,  is  Sir  Kay  in 
Arthur's  court  ?  "  "  He  is,"  said  Gawain  ;  "  and 
truly  he  is  the  knight  who  fought  with  thee  last." 
"  Verily,"  said  Perceval,  "  I  am  not  sorry  to  have 
thus  avenged  the  insult  to  the  smiling  maiden." 
Then  Perceval  told  him  his  name,  and  said,  "  Who 
art  thou  ?  "  And  he  replied,  "  I  am  Gawain."  "  I 
am  right  glad  to  meet  thee,"  said  Perceval,  "  for  I 
have  everywhere  lieard  of  thy  prowess  and  upright- 
ness ;  and  I  solicit  thy  fellowship."     "  Thou  shalt 


PERCEVAL.  195 

have  it,  by  my  faith  ;  and  grant  me  thine/'^  said  he. 
'^  Gladly  will  I  do  so,"  answered  Perceval. 

So  they  went  together  to  Arthur,  and  saluted  him. 
''  Behold,  lord,"  said  Gawain,  "  him  whom  thou 
hast  sought  so  long."  '-  Welcome  unto  thee,  chief- 
tain," said  Arthur.  And  hereupon  there  came  the 
queen  and  her  handmaidens,  and  Perceval  saluted 
them.  And  they  were  rejoiced  to  see  him,  and  bade 
him  welcome.  And  Arthur  did  him  great  honor 
and  respect,  and  they  returned  towards  Caerleon. 


/^ 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  SANGREAL,  OR  HOLY  GRAAL. 

The  Sangreal  was  the  cup  from  which  our  Sav- 
iour drank  at  his  last  supper.  He  was  supposed  to 
have  given  it  to  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  who  carried 
it  to  Europe,  together  with  the  spear  with  which  the 
soldier  pierced  the  Saviour's  side.  From  generation 
to  generation,  one  of  the  descendants  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathea  had  been  devoted  to  the  guardianship  of 
these  precious  relics ;  but  on  the  sole  condition  of 
leading  a  life  of  purity  in  thought,  word,  and  deed. 
For  a  long  time  the  Sangreal  was  visible  to  all  pil- 
grims, and  its  presence  conferred  blessings  upon  the 
land  in  which  it  was  preserved.  But  at  length  one 
of  those  holy  men  to  whom  its  guardianship  had 
descended,  so  far  forgot  the  obligation  of  his  sacred 
office  as  to  look  with  unhallowed  eye  upon  a  young 
female  pilgrim  whose  robe  was  accidentally  loosened 
as  she  knelt  before  him.  The  sacred  lance  instant- 
ly punished  his  frailty,  spontaneously  falling  upon 
him,  and  inflicting  a  deep  wound.  The  marvellous 
wound  could  by  no  means  be  healed,  and  the  guar- 


THE    SANGIIEAL.  197 

dian  of  the  Saiigreal  was  ever  after  called  ''  Le  Roi 
Pescheur,"  —  the  Sinner  King.  The  Sangreal  with- 
drew its  visible  presence  from  the  crowds  who  came 
to  worship,  and  an  iron  age  succeeded  to  the  happi- 
ness which  its  presence  had  diffused  among  the  tribes 
of  Britain. 

We  have  told  in  the  history  of  Merlin  how  that 
great  prophet  and  enchanter  sent  a  message  to  King- 
Arthur  by  Sir  Gawain,  directing  him  to  undertake 
the  recovery  of  the  Sangreal,  informing  him  at  the 
same  time  that  the  knight  who  should  accomplish 
that  sacred  quest  was  already  born,  and  of  a  suita- 
ble age  to  enter  upon  it.  Sir  Gawain  delivered  his 
message,  and  the  king  was  anxiously  revolving  in 
his  mind  how  best  to  achieve  the  enterprise,  when, 
at  the  vigil  of  Pentecost,  all  the  fellowship  of  the 
Round  Table  being  met  together  at  Camelot,  as  they 
sat  at  meat,  suddenly  there  was  heard  a  clap  of 
thunder,  and  then  a  bright  light  burst  forth,  and 
every  knight,  as  he  looked  on  his  fellow,  saw  him, 
in  seeming,  fairer  than  ever  before.  All  the  hall 
was  filled  with  sweet  odors,  and  every  knight  had 
such  meat  and  drink  as  he  best  loved.  Then  there 
entered  into  the  hall  the  Holy  Graal,  covered  with 
white  samite,  so  that  none  could  see  it,  and  it  passed 
through  the  hall  suddenly,  and  disappeared.  Dur- 
ing this  time  no  one  spoke  a  word,  but  when  they 
had  recovered  breath  to  speak.  King  Arthur  said, 
"  Certainly  we  ouglit  greatly  to  thank  the  Lord  for 
what  he  hath  showed  us  this  day."     Then  Sir  Ga- 

17* 


198  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

wain  rose  up,  and  made  a  vow  that  for  twelve 
months  and  a  day  he  would  seek  the  Sangreal,  and 
not  return  till  he  had  seen  it,  if  so  he  might  speed. 
When  they  of  the  Round  Table  heard  Sir  Gawain 
say  so,  they  arose,  the  most  part  of  them,  and  vowed 
the  same.  When  King  Arthur  heard  this,  he  was 
greatly  displeased,  for  he  knew  well  that  they  might 
not  gainsay  their  vows.  "  Alas  ! "  said  he  to  Sir 
Gawain,  "you  have  nigh  slain  me  with  the  vow  and 
promise  that  ye  have  made,  for  ye  have  bereft  me  of 
the  fairest  fellowship  that  ever  were  seen  together  in 
any  realm  of  the  world ;  for  when  they  shall  depart 
hence,  I  am  sure  that  all  shall  never  meet  more  in 
this  world.'' 


SIR   GALAHAD. 

At  that  time  there  entered  the  hall  a  good  old 
man,  and  with  him  he  brought  a  young  knight,  and 
these  words  he  said :  "  Peace  be  with  you,  fair 
lords."  Then  the  old  man  said  unto  King  Arthur, 
"  Sir,  I  bring  you  here  a  young  knight  that  is  of 
kings'  lineage,  and  of  the  kindred  of  Joseph  of 
Arimathea,  being  the  son  of  Dame  Elaine,  the 
daughter  of  King  Pelles,  king  of  the  foreign  coun- 
try." Now  the  name  of  the  young  knight  was  Sir 
Galahad,  and  lie  was  the  son  of  Sir  Launcelot  du 
Lac  ;  but  he  had  dwelt  with  his  mother,  at  the 
court  of  King  Pelles,  his  grandfather,  till  now  he 
was  old  enough  to  bear  arms,  and  his  mother  had 


THE    SANGREAL.  199 

sent  him  in  the  charge  of  a  holy  hermit  to  King 
Arthur's  court.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  beheld  his  son, 
and  had  great  joy  of  him.  And  Sir  Bohort  told  his 
fellows,  "  Upon  my  life,  this  young  knight  shall 
come  to  great  worship."  The  noise  was  great  in  all 
the  court,  so  that  it  came  to  the  queen.  And  she 
said,  "  I  would  fain  see  him,  for  he  must  needs  be 
a  noble  knight,  for  so  is  his  father."  And  the  queen 
and  her  ladies  all  said  that  he  resembled  much  unto 
his  father  ;  and  he  was  seemly  and  demure  as  a 
dove,  with  all  manner  of  good  features,  that  in  the 
whole  world  men  might  not  find  his  match.  And 
King  Arthur  said,  "  God  make  him  a  good  man, 
for  beauty  faileth  him  not,  as  any  that  livetli." 

Then  the  hermit  led  the  young  knight  to  the 
Siege  Perilous  ;  and  he  lifted  up  the  cloth,  and  found 
there  letters  that  said,  "  This  is  the  seat  of  Sir  Ga- 
lahad, the  good  knight"  ;  and  he  made  him  sit  in 
that  seat.  And  all  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table 
marvelled  greatly  at  Sir  Galahad,  seeing  him  sit 
securely  in  that  seat,  and  said,  "  This  is  he  by  whom 
the  Sangreal  shall  be  achieved,  for  there  never  sat 
one  before  in  that  seat  without  being  miscliieved." 

On  the  next  day  the  king  said,  ''  Now,  at  this 
quest  of  the  Sangreal  shall  all  ye  of  the  Eound  Table 
depart,  and  never  shall  I  see  you  again  altogether ; 
therefore  I  will  that  ye  all  repair  to  the  meadow  of 
Camelot,  for  to  just  and  tourney  yet  once  more  be- 
fore ye  depart."  But  all  the  meaning  of  the  king 
was  to  see  Sir  Galahad  proved.     So  then  were  they 


200  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS   KNIGHTS. 

all  assembled  in  the  meadow.  Then  Sir  Galahad, 
by  request  of  the  king  and  queen,  put  on  his  harness 
and  his  helm,  but  shield  would  he  take  none  for  any 
prayer  of  the  king.  And  the  queen  was  in  a  tower, 
with  all  her  ladies,  to  behold  that  tournament. 
Then  Sir  Galahad  rode  into  the  midst  of  the  mead- 
ow; and  there  he  began  to  break  spears  marvel- 
lously, so  that  all  men  had  wonder  of  him,  for  he 
surmounted  all  knights  that  encountered  with  him, 
except  two.  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Perceval.  Then 
the  king,  at  the  queen's  request,  made  him  to  alight, 
and  presented  him  to  the  queen ;  and  she  said, 
"  Never  two  men  resembled  one  another  more  than 
he  and  Sir  Launcelot,  and  therefore  it  is  no  marvel 
that  he  is  like  him  in  prowess." 

Then  the  king  and  the  queen  went  to  the  min- 
ster, and  the  knights  followed  them.  And  after  the 
service  was  done,  they  put  on  their  helms  and  de- 
parted, and  there  was  great  sorrow.  They  rode 
through  the  streets  of  Camelot,  and  there  was  weep- 
ing of  the  rich  and  poor ;  and  the  king  turned  away, 
and  might  not  speak  for  weeping.  And  so  they  de- 
parted, and  every  knight  took  the  way  that  him  best 
liked. 

Sir  Galahad  rode  forth  without  shield,  and  rode 
four  days,  and  found  no  adventure.  And  on  the 
fourth  day  he  came  to  a  white  abbey ;  and  there  he 
was  received  with  great  reverence,  and  led  to  a 
chamber.  He  met  there  two  knights,  King  Bagde- 
magus  and  Sir  Uwaine,  and  they  made  of  liim  great 


THE    SANGREAL.  201 

solace.  '^Sirs,"  said  Sir  Galahad,  ^^what  adventure 
brought  you  hither  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  they,  ''  it  is 
told  us  that  within  this  place  is  a  shield,  which  no 
man  may  bear  unless  he  be  worthy  ;  and  if  one  un- 
worthy should  attempt  to  bear  it,  it  shall  surely  do 
him  a  mischief."  Then  King  Bagdemagus  said, 
"  I  fear  not  to  bear  it,  and  that  shall  ye  see  to- 
morrow." 

So  on  the  morrow  they  arose,  and  heard  mass  ; 
then  King  Bagdemagus  asked  where  the  adventur- 
ous shield  was.  Anon  a  monk  led  him  behind  an 
altar,  where  the  shield  hung,  as  white  as  snow ;  but 
in  the  midst  there  was  a  red  cross.  Then  King 
Bagdemagus  took  the  shield,  and  bare  it  out  of  the 
minster ;  and  he  said  to  Sir  Galahad,  ''If  it  please 
you,  abide  here  till  ye  know  how  I  shall  speed." 

Then  King  Bagdemagus  and  his  squire  rode  forth ; 
and  when  they  had  ridden  a  mile  or  two,  they  saw  a 
goodly  knight  come  towards  them,  in  white  armor, 
horse  and  all ;  and  he  came  as  fast  as  his  horse 
might  run,  with  his  spear  in  the  rest ;  and  King 
Bagdemagus  directed  his  spear  against  him,  and 
broke  it  upon  the  white  knight,  but  the  other  struck 
him  so  hard  that  he  broke  the  mails,  and  thrust  him 
through  the  right  shoulder,  for  the  shield  covered 
him  not,  and  so  he  bare  him  from  his  horse.  Then 
the  white  knight  turned  his  horse  and  rode  away. 

Then  the  squire  went  to  King  Bagdemagus,  and 
asked  him  whether  he  were  sore  wounded  or  not. 
"  I  am  sore  wounded,"  said  he,  "  and  full  hardly 


202  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

shall  I  escape  death."  Then  the  squire  set  him  on 
his  horse,  and  brought  him  to  an  abbey ;  and  there 
he  was  taken  down  softly,  and  unarmed,  and  laid  in 
a  bed,  and  his  wound  was  looked  to,  for  he  lay  there 
long,  and  hardly  escaj^ed  with  his  life.  And  the 
Squire  brought  the  shield  back  to  the  abbey. 

The  next  day  Sir  Galahad  took  the  shield,  and 
within  a  while  he  came  to  the  hermitage,  where  he 
met  the  white  knight,  and  each  saluted  the  other 
courteously.  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Galahad,  "  can  you 
tell  me  the  marvel  of  the  shield  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  the 
white  knight,  "  that  shield  belonged  of  old  to  the 
gentle  knight,  Joseph  of  Arimathea ;  and  when  he 
came  to  die,  he  said,  '  Never  shall  man  bear  this 
shield  about  his  neck  but  he  shall  repent  it,  unto 
the  time  that  Sir  Galahad  the  good  knight  bear  it, 
the  last  of  my  lineage,  the  which  shall  do  many 
marvellous  deeds.' "  And  then  the  white  knight 
vanished  away. 


SIR   GAWAIN. 

After  Sir  Gawain  departed,  he  rode  many  days, 
both  toward  and  forward,  and  at  last  he  came  to  the 
abbey  where  Sir  Galahad  took  the  white  shield. 
And  they  told  Sir  Gawain  of  the  marvellous  adven- 
ture that  Sir  Galahad  had  done.  "  Truly,"  said 
Sir  Gawain,  "I  am  not  happy  that  I  took  not  the 
way  that  he  went,  for,  if  I  may  meet  with  him,  I 
will  not  part  from  him  lightly,  that  I  may  partake 


THE    SANGREAL.  203 

with  liim  all  the  marvellous  adventures  which  he 
shall  achieve."  "  Sir,"  said  one  of  the  monks,  '^  he 
will  not  be  of  your  fellowship."  "  Why  ?  "  said  Sir 
Gawain.  ''Sir,"  said  he,  "because  ye  be  sinful, 
and  he  is  blissful."  Then  said  the  monk,  "  Sir 
Gawain,  thou  must  do  penance  for  thy  sins."  ''  Sir, 
what  penance  shall  I  do? "  "  Such  as  I  will  show," 
said  the  good  man.  "  Nay,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  I 
will  do  no  penance,  for  we  knights  adventurous  often 
suffer  great  woe  and  pain."  "  Well,"  said  the  good 
man ;  and  he  held  his  peace.  And  Sir  Gawain 
departed. 

Now  it  happened,  not  long  after  this,  that  Sir 
Gawain  and  Sir  Hector  rode  together,  and  they 
came  to  a  castle  where  was  a  great  tournament. 
And  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir  Hector  joined  themselves 
to  the  party  that  seemed  the  weaker,  and  they  drove 
before  them  the  other  party.  Then  suddenly  came 
into  the  lists  a  knight,  bearing  a  white  shield  with  a 
red  cross,  and  by  adventure  he  came  by  Sir  Gawain, 
and  he  smote  him  so  hard  that  he  clave  his  helm 
and  wounded  his  head,  so  that  Sir  Gawain  fell  to 
the  earth.  When  Sir  Hector  saw  that,  he  knew  that 
the  knight  with  the  white  shield  was  Sir  Galahad, 
and  he  thought  it  no  wisdom  to  abide  him,  and  also 
for  natural  love,  that  he  was  his  uncle.  Then  Sir 
Galahad  retired  privily,  so  that  none  knew  where 
he  had  gone.  And  Sir  Hector  raised  up  Sir  Gawain, 
and  said,  "  Sir,  me  seemeth  your  quest  is  done." 
"  It  is  done,"  said  Sir  Gawain  ;  "  I  shall  seek  no  fur- 


204  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

ther.''  Then  Gawain  was  borne  into  the  castle,  and 
unarmed,  and  laid  in  a  rich  bed,  and  a  leech  found 
to  search  his  wound.  And  Sir  Gawain  and  Sir 
Hector  abode  together,  for  Sir  Hector  would  not 
away  till  Sir  Gawain  were  whole. 


CHAPTEE    XX. 

'^  THE   SANGREAL,   CONTINUED. 

SIR   LAUNCELOT. 

Sir  Launcelot  rode  overtliwart  and  endlong  in 
a  wide  forest,  and  held  no  path  but  as  wild  adventure 
led  him.  And  at  last  he  came  to  a  stone  cross. 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  looked  round  him,  and  saw  an 
old  chapel.  So  he  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  put 
off  his  shield,  and  hung  it  upon  a  tree  ;  and  then  he 
Avent  unto  the  chapel,  and  looked  through  a  place 
where  the  wall  was  broken.  And  within  he  saw  a 
fair  altar,  full  richly  arrayed  with  cloth  of  silk  ;  and 
there  stood  a  fair  candlestick,  which  bare  six  great 
candles,  and  the  candlestick  was  of  silver.  When 
Sir  Launcelot  saw  this  sight,  he  had  a  great  wish  to 
enter  the  chapel,  but  he  could  find  no  place  where 
he  might  enter.  Then  was  he  passing  heavy  and 
dismayed.  And  he  returned  and  came  again  to  his 
horse,  and  took  off  his  saddle  and  his  bridle,  and  let 
him  pasture ;  and  unlaced  his  helm,  and  ungirded 
his  sword,  and  laid  hhn  down  to  sleep  upon  his 
shield  before  the  cross. 


206  KING   ARTHUR   AND    IIIS    KNIGHTS. 

And  as  he  lay,  half  waking  and  half  sleeping,  he 
saw  come  by  him  two  palfreys,  both  fair  and  white, 
which  bare  a  litter,  on  which  lay  a  sick  knight. 
And  when  he  was  nigh  the  cross,  he  there  abode 
still.  And  Sir  Launcelot  heard  him  say,  "  0  sweet 
Lord,  when  shall  this  sorrow  leave  me,  and  when 
shall  the  holy  vessel  come  by  me  whereby  I  shall  be 
healed  ?  "  And  thus  a  great  while  complained  the 
knight,  and  Sir  Launcelot  heard  it.  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  saw  the  candlestick,  with  the  lighted 
tapers,  come  before  the  cross,  but  he  could  see 
nobody  that  brought  it.  Also  there  came  a  salver 
of  silver  and  the  holy  vessel  of  the  Sangreal ;  and 
therewithal  the  sick  knight  sat  him  upright,  and 
held  up  both  his  hands,  and  said,  "Fair,  sweet 
Lord,  which  is  here  within  the  holy  vessel,  take  heed 
to  me,  that  I  may  be  whole  of  this  great  malady." 
And  therewith,  upon  his  hands  and  upon  his  knees, 
he  went  so  nigh  that  he  touched  the  holy  vessel  and 
kissed  it.  And  anon  he  was  whole.  Then  the  holy 
vessel  went  into  the  chapel  again,  with  the  candle- 
stick and  the  light,  so  that  Sir  Launcelot  wist  not 
what  became  of  it. 

Then  the  sick  knight  rose  up  and  kissed  the  cross  ; 
and  anon  his  squire  brought  him  his  arms,  and  asked 
his  lord  how  he  did.  "  I  thank  God  right  heartily," 
said  he,  "  for,  through  the  holy  vessel,  I  am  healed. 
But  I  have  great  marvel  of  this  sleeping  knight,  who 
hath  had  neither  grace  nor  power  to  awake  during 
the  time  that  the  holy  vessel  hath  been  liero  prcs- 


THE    SANGREAL.  207 

ent."  "  I  dare  it  right  well  say,"  said  the  squire, 
"  that  this  same  knight  is  stained  with  some  manner 
of  deadly  sin,  whereof  he  was  never  confessed."  So 
they  departed. 

Then  anon  Sir  Launcelot  waked,  and  set  himself 
upright,  and  hethought  him  of  what  he  had  seen, 
and  whether  it  were  dreams  or  not.  And  he  was 
passing  heavy,  and  wist  not  what  to  do.  And  he 
said  :  "  My  sin  and  my  wretchedness  hath  brought 
me  into  great  dishonor.  For  when  I  sought  worldly 
adventures  and  worldly  desires,  I  ever  achieved 
them,  and  had  the  better  in  every  place,  and  never 
was  I  discomfited  in  any  quarrel,  were  it  right  or 
wrong.  And  now  I  take  upon  me  tlie  adventure  of 
holy  things,  I  see  and  understand  that  mine  old  sin 
hindereth  me,  so  that  I  had  no  power  to  stir  nor  to 
speak  when  the  holy  blood  appeared  before  me." 
So  thus  he  sorrowed  till  it  was  day,  and  heard  the 
fowls  of  the  air  sing.  Then  was  he  somewhat  com- 
forted. 

Then  he  departed  from  the  cross  into  the  forest. 
And  there  he  found  a  hermitage,  and  a  hermit 
therein,  who  was  going  to  mass.  So  when  mass 
was  done.  Sir  Launcelot  called  the  hermit  to  him, 
and  prayed  him  for  charity  to  hear  his  confession. 
"  With  a  good  will,"  said  the  good  man.  And  then 
he  told  that  good  man  all  his  life,  and  liow  he  had 
loved  a  queen  immeasurably  many  years.  "  And 
all  my  great  deeds  of  arms  that  I  have  done,  I  did 
tlio  most  part  for  the  queen's  sake,  and  for  licr  sake 


208  KING   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

would  I  do  battle,  were  it  right  or  wrong,  and  never 
did  I  battle  all  onlj  for  God's  sake,  but  for  to  win 
worship,  and  to  cause  me  to  be  better  beloved  ;  and 
little  or  naught  I  thanked  God  for  it.  I  pray  you 
counsel  me." 

"  I  will  counsel  you,"  said  the  hermit,  "  if  ye 
will  insure  me  that  ye  will  never  come  in  that 
queen's  fellowship  as  much  as  ye  may  forbear." 
And  then  Sir  Launcelot  promised  the  hermit,  by  his 
faith,  that  he  would  no  more  come  in  her  company. 
"  Look  that  your  heart  and  your  mouth  accord," 
said  the  good  man,  "  and  I  shall  insure  you  that  ye 
shall  have  more  worship  than  ever  ye  had." 

Then  the  good  man  enjoined  Sir  Launcelot  such 
penance  as  he  might  do,  and  he  assoiled  Sir  Laun- 
celot, and  made  him  abide  with  him  all  that  day. 
And  Sir  Launcelot  repented  him  greatly. 

SIR   PERCEVAL.     ' 

Sir  Perceval  departed,  and  rode  till  the  hour  of 
noon ;  and  he  met  in  a  valley  about  twenty  men  of 
arms.  And  when  they  saw  Sir  Perceval,  they  asked 
him  whence  he  was ;  and  he  answered,  "  Of  the  court 
of  King  Arthur."  Then  they  cried  all  at  once,  "  Slay 
him."  But  Sir  Perceval  smote  the  first  to  the  earth, 
and  his  horse  upon  him.  Then  seven  of  the  knights 
smote  upon  his  shield  all  at  once,  and  the  remnan.t 
slew  his  horse,  so  that  he  fell  to  the  earth.  So  had 
they   slain  him  or  taken    liim,  had  not  the   good 


THE    SANGREAL.  209 

knight  Sir  Galahad,  with  the  red  cross,  come  there 
by  adventure.  And  when  he  saw  all  the  knights 
upon  one,  he  cried  out,  "  Save  me  that  knight's  life." 
Then  he  rode  toward  the  twenty  men  of  arms  as 
fast  as  his  horse  might  drive,  with  his  spear  in  the 
rest,  and  smote  the  foremost  horse  and  man  to  the 
earth.  And  when  his  spear  was  broken,  he  set  his 
hand  to  his  sword,  and  smote  on  the  right  hand  and 
on  the  left,  that  it  was  marvel  to  see ;  and  at  every 
stroke  he  smote  down  one,  or  put  him  to  rebuke,  so 
that  they  would  fight  no  more,  but  fled  to  a  thick 
forest,  and  Sir  Galahad  followed  them.  And  when 
Sir  Perceval  saw  him  chase  them  so,  he  made  great 
sorrow  that  his  horse  was  slain.  And  he  wist  well 
it  was  Sir  Galahad.  Then  he  cried  aloud,  "  Ah, 
fair  knight,  abide,  and  suffer  me  to  do  thanks  unto 
thee  ;  for  right  well  have  ye  done  for  me."  But  Sir 
Galahad  rode  so  fast,  that  at  last  he  passed  out  of 
his  sight.  When  Sir  Perceval  saw  that  he  would 
not  turn,  he  said,  "  Now  am  I  a  very  wretch,  and 
most  unhappy  above  all  other  knights."  So  in  this 
sorrow  he  abode  all  that  day  till  it  was  night ;  and 
then  he  was  faint,  and  laid  liim  down  and  slept  till 
midnight ;  and  then  he  awaked,  and  saw  before  him 
a  woman,  who  said  unto  him,  "  Sir  Perceval,  what 
dost  thou  here  ?  "  He  answered,  "  I  do  neither 
good,  nor  great  ill."  "  If  thou  wilt  promise  me," 
said  she,  ''that  thou  wilt  fulfil  my  will  when  I 
summon  thee,  I  will  lend  thee  my  own  horse,  which 
shall  bear  thee  whither  thou  wilt."     Sir  Perceval 

18=^ 


210  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HJS    KNIGHTS. 

was  glad  of  her  proffer,  and  insured  her  to  fulfil  all 
her  desire.  "  Then  abide  me  here,  and  I  will  go 
fetch  you  a  horse."  And  so  she  soon  came  again, 
and  brought  a  horse  with  her  that  was  inky  black. 
When  Perceval  beheld  that  horse,  he  marvelled,  it 
was  so  great  and  so  well  apparelled.  And  he  leapt 
upon  him,  and  took  no  heed  of  himself.  And  he 
thrust  him  with  his  spurs,  and  within  an  hour  and 
less  he  bare  him  four  days'  journey  thence,  until  he 
came  to  a  rough  water,  which  roared,  and  his  horse 
would  have  borne  him  into  it.  And  when  Sir  Per- 
ceval came  nigh  the  brim,  and  saw  the  water  so 
boisterous,  he  doubted  to  overpass  it.  And  then  he 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead.  When 
the  fiend  felt  him  so  charged,  he  shook  off  Sir  Per- 
ceval, and  went  into  the  water  crying  and  roaring ; 
and  it  seemed  unto  him  that  the  water  burned. 
Then  Sir  Perceval  perceived  it  was  a  fiend  that 
would  have  brought  him  unto  his  perdition.  Then 
he  commended  himself  unto  God,  and  prayed  our 
Lord  to  keep  him  from  all  such  temptations  ;  and 
so  he  prayed  all  tliat  night  till  it  was  day.  Then 
he  saw  that  he  was  in  a  wild  place,  that  was  closed 
with  the  sea  nigh  all  about.  And  Sir  Perceval 
looked  forth  over  the  sea,  and  saw  a  ship  come 
sailing  towards  him ;  and  it  came  and  stood  still 
under  the  rock.  And  when  Sir  Perceval  saw  this, 
he  hied  him  thither,  and  found  the  ship  covered 
with  silk ;  and  therein  was  a  lady  of  great  beauty, 
and  clothed  so  richly  tliat  none  might  be  better. 


THE    SANGREAL.  211 

And  when  she  saw  Sir  Perceval,  she  saluted  him, 
and  Sir  Perceval  returned  her  salutation.  Then  he 
asked  her  of  her  country  and  her  lineage.  And  she 
said,  "  I  am  a  gentlewoman  that  am  disinherited, 
and  was  once  the  richest  woman  of  the  world." 
"  Damsel,"  said  Sir  Perceval,  ^'  who  hath  disinher- 
ited you  ?  for  I  have  great  pity  of  you."  ''  Sir,"  said 
she,  "  my  enemy  is  a  great  and  powerful  lord,  and 
aforetime  he  made  much  of  me,  so  that  of  his  favor 
and  of  my  beauty  I  had  a  little  pride  more  than  I 
ought  to  have  had.  Also  I  said  a  word  that  pleased 
him  not.  So  he  drove  me  from  his  company  and 
from  mine  heritage.  Therefore  I  know  no  good 
knight  nor  good  man  but  I  get  him  on  my  side  if 
I  may.  And,  for  that  I  know  that  thou  art  a  good 
knight,  I  beseech  thee  to  help  me." 

Then  Sir  Perceval  promised  her  all  the  help  that 
he  might,  and  she  thanked  him. 

And  at  that  time  the  weather  was  hot,  and  she 
called  to  her  a  gentlewoman,  and  bade  her  bring 
forth  a  pavilion.  And  she  did  so,  and  pitched  it 
upon  the  gravel.  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  now  may  ye 
rest  you  in  this  heat  of  the  day."  Then  he  thanked 
her,  and  she  put  off  his  helm  and  his  shield,  and 
there  he  slept  a  great  while.  Then  he  awoke,  and 
asked  her  if  she  had  any  meat,  and  she  said  yea, 
and  so  there  was  set  upon  tlie  table  all  manner  of 
meats  that  he  could  think  on.  Also  he  drank  there 
the  strongest  wine  that  ever  he  drank,  and  therewith 
hi3  was  a  little  chafed  more  tlian  ho  ouulit  to  be. 


212  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

With  that  he  beheld  the  lady,  and  he  thought  she 
was  the  fairest  creature  that  ever  he  saw.  And 
then  Sir  Perceval  proffered  her  love,  and  prayed 
her  that  she  would  be  his.  Then  she  refused  him 
in  a  manner,  for  the  cause  he  should  be  the  more 
ardent  on  her,  and  ever  he  ceased  not  to  pray  her  of 
love.  And  when  she  saw  him  well  enchafed,  then 
she  said,  "  Sir  Perceval,  wit  you  well  I  shall  not 
give  ye  my  love,  unless  you  swear  from  henceforth 
you  will  be  my  true  servant,  and  do  no  thing  but 
that  I  shall  command  you.  Will  you  insure  me 
this,  as  ye  be  a  true  knight  ?  "  "  Yea,"  said  he, 
"  fair  lady,  by  the  faith  of  my  body."  And  as  he 
said  this,  by  adventure  and  grace,  he  saw  his  sword 
lie  on  the  ground  naked,  in  whose  pommel  was  a 
red  cross,  and  the  sign  of  the  crucifix  thereon. 
Then  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  fore- 
head, and  therewith  the  pavilion  shrivelled  up,  and 
changed  into  a  smoke  and  a  black  cloud.  And  the 
damsel  cried  aloud,  and  hasted  into  the  ship,  and  so 
she  went  with  the  wind  roaring  and  yelling  that  it 
seemed  all  the  water  burned  after  her.  Tlien  Sir 
Perceval  made  great  sorrow,  and  called  himself  a 
wretch,  saying,  "  How  nigh  was  I  lost !  "  Then  he 
took  his  arms,  and  departed  thence. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE   SANGREAL,   CONTINUED. 
SIR  BOHORT. 

When  Sir  Bohort  departed  from  Camelot  he  met 
with  a  religious  man,  riding  upon  an  ass ;  and  Sir 
Bohort  saluted  him.  "  What  are  ye  ? "  said  the 
good  man.  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  I  am  a  knight 
that  fain  would  be  counselled  in  the  quest  of  the 
Sangreal."  So  rode  they  both  together  till  they 
came  to  a  hermitage ;  and  there  he  prayed  Sir  Bo- 
hort to  dwell  that  night  with  him.  So  he  alighted, 
and  put  away  iiis  armor,  and  prayed  him  that  he 
might  be  confessed.  And  they  went  both  into  the 
chapel,  and  there  he  was  clean  confessed.  And 
they  ate  bread  and  drank  water  together.  "  Now," 
said  the  good  man,  "  I  pray  thee  that  thou  eat  none 
other  till  thou  sit  at  the  table  where  the  Sangreal 
shall  be."  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  but  how  know 
ye  that  I  shall  sit  there  ?  "  "  Yea,"  said  the  good 
man,  "  tliat  I  know  well ;  but  there  shall  be  few  of 
your  fellows  with  you."  Then  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  T 
agree  me  thereto."     And  the  good  man,  when  he 


214  KING    ARTHUK    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

had  heard  his  confession,  found  him  in  so  pure  a  life 
and  so  stable  that  he  marvelled  thereof. 

On  the  morrow,  as  soon  as  the  day  appeared, 
Sir  Bohort  departed  thence,  and  rode  into  a  forest 
unto  the  hour  of  midday.  And  there  befell  him  a 
marvellous  adventure.  For  he  met,  at  the  parting 
of  two  ways,  two  knights  that  led  Sir  Lionel,  his 
brother,  all  naked,  bound  upon  a  strong  hackney, 
and  his  hands  bound  before  his  breast ;  and  each  of 
them  held  in  his  hand  thorns  wherewith  they  went 
beating  him,  so  that  he  was  all  bloody  before  and 
behind ;  but  he  said  never  a  word,  but,  as  he  was 
great  of  heart,  he  suffered  all  that  they  did  to  him 
as  though  he  had  felt  none  anguish.  Sir  Bohort 
prepared  to  rescue  his  brother.  But  he  looked  on 
the  other  side  of  him,  and  saw  a  knight  dragging 
along  a  fair  gentlewoman,  who  cried  out,  "  Saint 
Mary !  succor  your  maid ! "  And  when  she  saw 
Sir  Bohort,  she  called  to  him,  and  said,  "  By  the 
faith  that  ye  owe  to  knighthood,  help  me  !  "  When 
Sir  Bohort  heard  her  say  thus,  he  had  such  sorrow 
that  he  wist  not  what  to  do.  "  For  if  I  let  my 
brother  be,  he  must  be  slain,  and  that  would  I  not 
for  all  the  earth ;  and  if  I  help  not  the  maid,  I  am 
shamed  for  ever."  Then  lift  he  up  his  eyes  and 
said,  weeping,  "  Fair  Lord,  whose  liegeman  I  am, 
keep  Sir  Lionel,  my  brother,  that  none  of  these 
knights  slay  him,  and  for  pity  of  you,  and  our 
Lady's  sake,  I  shall  succor  this  maid." 

Then  he  cried  out  to  the  knight,  "  Sir  knight,  lay 


THE    SANGREAL.  215 

your  hand  off  that  maid,  or  else  ye  be  but  dead." 
Then  the  knight  set  down  the  maid,  and  took  his 
shield,  and  drew  out  his  sword.  And  Sir  Bohort 
smote  him  so  hard  that  it  went  through  his  shield 
and  habergeon,  on  the  left  shoulder,  and  he  fell 
down  to  the  earth.  Then  came  Sir  Bohort  to  the 
maid,  "  Ye  be  delivered  of  this  knight  this  time." 
"  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  pray  you  lead  me  there  where 
this  knight  took  me."  "  I  shall  gladly  do  it,"  said 
Sir  Bohort.  So  he  took  the  horse  of  the  wounded 
knight,  and  set  the  gentlewoman  upon  it,  and 
brought  her  there  where  she  desired  to  be.  And 
there  he  found  twelve  knights  seeking  after  her ; 
and  when  she  told  them  how  Sir  Bohort  had  deliv- 
ered her,  they  made  great  joy,  and  besought  him  to 
come  to  her  father,  a  great  lord,  and  he  should  be 
right  welcome.  "  Truly,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  that 
may  not  be ;  for  I  have  a  great  adventure  to  do." 
So  he  commended  them  to  God  and  departed. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  rode  after  Sir  Lionel,  his  brother, 
by  the  trace  of  their  horses.  Thus  he  rode  seeking, 
a  great  while.  Then  he  overtook  a  man  clothed  in 
a  religious  clothing,  who  said,  "  Sir  knight,  what 
seek  ye  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bohort,  "  I  seek  my 
brother,  that  I  saw  within  a  little  space  beaten  of 
two  knights."  "  Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  trouble  not  thy- 
self to  seek  for  him,  for  truly  he  is  dead."  Then 
he  showed  him  a  new-slain  body,  lying  in  a  thick 
bush  ;  and  it  seemed  him  that  it  was  the  body  of  Sir 
Lionel.  And  then  he  made  such  sorrow  that  he  fell 
to  the  ground  in  a  swoon,  and  lay  there  long.     And 


216  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

when  he  came  to  himself  again,  he  said,  ''  Pair 
brother,  since  the  fellowship  of  you  and  me  is  sun- 
dered, shall  I  never  have  joy  again ;  and  now  He 
that  I  have  taken  for  my  master.  He  be  my  help !  " 
And  when  he  had  said  thus,  he  took  up  the  body  in 
his  arms,  and  put  it  upon  the  horse.  And  then  he 
said  to  the  man,  "  Canst  thou  tell  me  the  way 
to  some  chapel,  where  I  may  bury  this  body?" 
"  Come  on,"  said  the  man,  "here  is  one  fast  by." 
And  so  they  rode  till  they  saw  a  fair  tower,  and  be- 
side it  a  chapel.  Then  they  alighted  both,  and  put 
the  body  into  a  tomb  of  marble. 

Then  Sir  Bohort  commended  the  good  man  unto 
God,  and  departed.  And  he  rode  all  that  day,  and 
harbored  with  an  old  lady.  And  on  the  morrow  he 
rode  unto  the  castle  in  a  valley,  and  there  he  met 
with  a  yeoman.  "  Tell  me,"  said  Sir  Bohort, 
"  knowest  thou  of  any  adventure  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said 
he,  "  here  shall  be,  under  this  castle,  a  great  and 
marvellous  tournament."  Then  Sir  Bohort  thought 
to  be  there,  if  he  might  meet  with  any  of  the  fellow- 
ship that  were  in  quest  of  the  Sangreal ;  so  he 
turned  to  a  hermitage  that  was  on  the  border  of  the 
forest.  And  when  he  was  come  thither,  he  found 
there  Sir  Lionel  his  brother,  who  sat  all  armed  at 
the  entry  of  the  chapel  door.  And  when  Sir  Bo- 
hort saw  him,  he  had  great  joy,  and  he  alighted  off 
his  horse,  and  said,  "  Pair  brother,  when  came  ye 
hither  ?  "  As  soon  as  Sir  Lionel  saw  him  he  said, 
"  Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  make  ye  no  false  show,  for,  as  for 
you,  I  might  liave  been  slain,  for  yo  loft  me  in  peril 


THE    SANGREAL.  217 

of  death  to  go  succor  a  gentlewoman ;  and  for  that 
misdeed  I  now  insure  you  but  death,  for  ye  have 
right  well  deserved  it."  When  Sir  Bohort  per- 
ceived his  brother's  wrath,  he  kneeled  down  to  the 
earth  and  cried  him  mercy,  holding  iip  both  his 
hands,  and  prayed  him  to  forgive  him.  "  Nay," 
said  Sir  Lionel,  "  thou  shalt  have  but  death  for  it,  if 
I  have  the  upper  hand;  therefore  leap  upon  thy 
horse  and  keep  thyself,  and  if  thou  do  not,  I  will 
run  upon  thee  there  as  thou  standest  on  foot,  and 
so  the  shame  shall  be  mine,  and  the  harm  thine,  but 
of  that  I  reck  not."  When  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  he 
must  fight  with  his  brother  or  else  die,  he  wist  not 
what  to  do.  Then  his  heart  counselled  him  not  so 
to  do,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Lionel  was  his  elder  brother, 
wherefore  he  ought  to  bear  him  reverence.  Yet 
kneeled  he  down  before  Sir  Lionel's  horse's  feet,  and 
said,  "  Fair  brother,  have  mercy  upon  me  and  slay 
me  not."  But  Sir  Lionel  cared  not,  for  the  fiend 
had  brought  him  in  such  a  will  that  he  should  slay 
him.  When  he  saw  that  Sir  Bohort  would  not  rise 
to  give  him  battle,  he  rushed  over  him,  so  that  he 
smote  him  with  his  horse's  feet  to  the  earth,  and 
hurt  him  sore,  that  he  swooned  of  distress.  When 
Sir  Lionel  saw  this,  he  alighted  from  his  horse  for 
to  have  smitten  off  his  head ;  and  so  he  took  him  by 
the  helm,  and  would  have  rent  it  from  his  liead. 
But  it  happened  that  Sir  Colgrevance,  a  knight  of 
the  Kound  Table,  came  at  that  time  thither,  as  it 
was  our  Lord's^  will  :  and  then  lie  beheld  how  Sir 


218  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Lionel  would  have  slain  his  brother,  and  he  knew 
Sir  Bohort,  whom  he  loved  right  well.  Then  leapt 
he  down  from  his  horse,  and  took  Sir  Lionel  by  the 
shoulders,  and  drew  him  strongly  back  from  Sir 
Bohort,  and  said,  ''  Sir  Lionel,  will  ye  slay  your 
brother  ?  "  ''  AYhy,"  said  Sir  Lionel,  '^  will  ye  stay 
me  ?  If  ye  interfere  in  this,  I  will  slay  you,  and 
him  after."  Then  he  ran  upon  Sir  Bohort,  and 
would  have  smitten  him ;  but  Sir  Colgrevance  ran 
between  them,  and  said,  '^  If  ye  persist  to  do  so  any 
more,  we  two  shall  meddle  together."  Then  Sir 
Lionel  defied  him,  and  gave  him  a  great  stroke 
through  the  helm.  Then  he  drew  his  sword,  for  he 
was  a  passing  good  knight,  and  defended  himself 
right  manfully.  So  long  endured  the  battle,  that 
Sir  Bohort  rose  up  all  anguishly,  and  beheld  Sir 
Colgrevance,  the  good  knight,  fight  with  his  brother 
for  his  quarrel.  Then  was  he  full  sorry  and  heavy, 
and  thought  that,  if  Sir  Colgrevance  slew  him  that 
was  his  brother,  he  should  never  have  joy,  and  if  his 
brother  slew  Sir  Colgrevance,  the  shame  should  ever 
be  his. 

Then  would  he  have  risen  for  to  have  parted 
them,  but  he  had  not  so  much  strength  to  stand  on 
his  feet ;  so  he  staid  so  long  that  Sir  Colgrevance 
had  the  worse,  for  Sir  Lionel  was  of  great  chivalry 
and  right  hardy.  Then  cried  Sir  Colgrevance, 
"  Ah,  Sir  Bohort,  why  come  ye  not  to  bring  me  out 
of  peril  of  death,  wherein  I  have  put  me  to  succor 
you  ?  "     AYith  that,  Sir  Lionel  smote  off  his  helm, 


THE    SANGREAL.  219 

and  bore  him  to  the  earth.  And  when  he  had  slain 
Sir  Colgrevance,  he  ran  upon  his  brother  as  a  fiendly 
man,  and  gave  him  such  a  stroke  that  he  made  him 
stoop.  And  he  that  was  full  of  humility  prayed 
him,  "  for  God's  sake  leave  this  battle,  for  if  it  be- 
fell, fair  brother,  that  I  slew  you,  or  ye  me,  we 
should  be  dead  of  that  sin."  ''  Pray  ye  not  me  for 
mercy,"  said  Sir  Lionel.  Then  Sir  Boliort,  all 
weeping,  drew  his  sword,  and  said,  "  Now  God 
have  mercy  upon  me,  though  I  defend  my  life 
against  my  brother."  With  that  Sir  Bohort  lifted 
up  his  sword,  and  would  have  stricken  his  brother. 
Then  heard  he  a  voice  that  said,  "  Flee,  Sir  Bohort, 
and  touch  him  not."  Right  so  alighted  a  cloud  be- 
tween them,  in  the  likeness  of  a  fire,  and  a  marvel- 
lous flame,  so  that  they  both  fell  to  the  earth,  and 
lay  there  a  great  while  in  a  swoon.  And  when  they 
came  to  themselves.  Sir  Bohort  saw  that  his  brother 
had  no  harm ;  and  he  was  right  glad,  for  he  dread 
sore  that  God  had  taken  vengeance  upon  him. 
Then  Sir  Lionel  said  to  his  brother,  "  Brother,  for- 
give me,  for  God's  sake,  all  that  I  have  trespassed 
against  you."  And'  Sir  Bohort  answered,  "  God 
forgive  it  thee,  and  I  do." 

"With  that  Sir  Bohort  heard  a  voice  say,  ''  Sir  Bo- 
hort, take  thy  way  anon,  right  to  the  sea,  for  Sir 
Perceval  abidcth  thee  there."  So  Sir  Bohort  de- 
parted, and  rode  the  nearest  way  to  the  sea.  And 
at  last  lie  came  to  an  abbey  that  was  nigh  the  sea. 
That  niglit  he  rested  him  there,  and    in  his  deep 


220  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

there  came  a  voice  unto  liim  and  bade  him  go  to  the 
sea-shore.  He  started  up,  and  made  the  sign  of  tlie 
cross  on  liis  forehead,  and  armed  himself,  and  made 
ready  liis  horse  and  mounted  him,  and  at  a  broken 
wall  lie  rode  out,  and  came  to  the  sea-shore.  And 
there  he  found  a  ship,  covered  all  with  white 
samite.  And  he  entered  into  the  ship ;  but  it  was 
anon  so  dark  that  he  might  see  no  man,  and  he  laid 
him  down  and  slept  till  it  was  day.  Then  he 
awaked,  and  saw  in  the  middle  of  the  ship  a  knight 
all  armed,  save  his  helm.  And  then  he  knew  it 
was  Sir  Perceval  de  Galis,  and  each  made  of  other 
right  great  joy.  Then  said  Sir  Perceval,  "  We  lack 
nothing  now  but  the  good  knight  Sir  Galahad." 


It  befell  upon  a  niglit  Sir  Launcelot  arrived  before 
a  castle,  whicli  was  rich  and  fair.  And  there  was  a 
postern  that  opened  toward  the  sea,  and  was  open 
Avithout  any  keeping,  save  two  lions  kept  the  entry  ; 
and  the  moon  sliined  clear.  Anon  Sir  Launcelot 
heard  a  voice  tliat  said,  ''  Launcelot,  enter  into  the 
castle,  where  thou  shalt  see  a  great  part  of  thy  de- 
sire." So  he  went  unto  the  gate,  and  saw  the  two 
lions ;  then  he  set  hands  to  his  sword,  and  drew  it. 
Then  there  came  suddenly  as  it  were  a  stroke  upon 
the  arm,  so  sore  that  the  sword  fell  out  of  his  hand, 
and  he  heard  a  voice  that  said,  "  0  man  of  evil 
faith,  wherefore  believest  thou  more  in  thy  armor 


THE    SANGREAL.  221 

than  ill  thy  Maker  ? "  Then  said  Sir  Launcelot, 
''  Fair  Lord,  I  thank  thee  of  thy  great  mercy,  that 
thou  reprovest  me  of  my  misdeed ;  now  see  I  well 
that  thou  holdest  me  for  thy  servant."  Then  he 
made  a  cross  on  his  forehead,  and  came  to  the  lions  ; 
and  they  made  semblance  to  do  him  harm,  but  he 
passed  them  without  hurt,  and  entered  into  the 
castle,  and  he  found  no  gate  nor  door  but  it  was 
open.  But  at  the  last  he  found  a  chamber  where- 
of the  door  was  shut ;  and  he  set  his  hand  thereto, 
to  have  opened  it,  but  he  might  not.  Then  he  lis- 
tened, and  heard  a  voice  which  sung  so  sweetly  that 
it  seemed  none  earthly  thing ;  and  the  voice  said, 
"Joy  and  honor  be  to  the  Father  of  heaven." 
Then  Sir  Launcelot  kneeled  down  before  the  cham- 
ber, for  well  he  wist  that  there  was  the  Sangreal  in 
that  chamber.  Then  said  he,  "  Fair,  sweet  Lord, 
if  ever  I  did  anything  that  pleased  thee,  for  thy  pity 
show  me  something  of  that  which  I  seek."  And 
with  that  he  saw  the  chamber  door  open,  and  there 
came  out  a  great  clearness,  that  the  house  was  as 
bright  as  though  all  the  torches  of  the  world  had 
been  there.  So  he  came  to  the  chamber  door,  and 
would  have  entered ;  and  anon  a  voice  said  unto 
him,  ''  Stay,  Sir  Launcelot,  and  enter  not."  And 
he  withdrew  him  back,  and  was  right  heavy  in  his 
mind.  Then  looked  he  in  the  midst  of  the  chamber, 
and  saw  a  table  of  silver,  and  the  holy  vessel,  cov- 
ered with  red  samite,  and  many  angels  about  it ; 
whereof  one  held  a  candle  of  wax  burning,  and  an- 

19* 


222  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

other  held  a  cross,  and  the  ornaments  of  the  altar. 
Then,  for  very  wonder  and  thankfulness,  Sir  Laun- 
celot  forgot  himself,  and  he  stepped  forward  and 
entered  the  chamber.  And  suddenly  a  breath  that 
seemed  intermixed  with  fire  smote  him  so  sore  in 
•  the  visage,  that  therewith  he  fell  to  the  ground,  and 
had  no  power  to  rise.  Then  felt  he  many  hands 
about  him,  which  took  him  up,  and  bare  him  out  of 
the  chamber,  without  any  amending  of  his  swoon, 
and  left  him  tliere,  seeming  dead  to  all  the  people. 
So  on  the  morrow,  when  it  was  fair  daylight,  and 
they  Avithin  were  arisen,  they  found  Sir  Laimcelot 
lying  before  the  chamber  door.  And  they  looked 
upon  him  and  felt  his  pulse,  to  know  if  there  were 
any  life  in  him.  And  they  found  life  in  him,  but 
he  might  neither  stand  nor  stir  any  member  that  he 
had.  So  they  took  him  and  bare  him  into  a  cham- 
ber, and  laid  him  upon  a  bed,  far  from  all  folk,  and 
there  he  lay  many  days.  Then  the  one  said  he  was 
alive,  and  others  said  nay.  But  said  an  old  man, 
''  He  is  as  full  of  life  as  the  mightiest  of  you  all,  and 
therefore  I  counsel  you  that  he  be  well  kept  till  God 
bring  him  back  again."  And  after  twenty-four  days 
lie  opened  his  eyes ;  and  when  he  saw  folk,  he  made 
great  sorrow,  and  said,  "  Why  have  ye  wakened  me  ? 
for  I  was  better  at  ease  than  I  am  now."  "  What 
have  ye  seen  ? "  said  they  about  I\Jm.  ''  I  have 
seen,"  said  he,  "  great  marvels  that  no  tongue  can 
tell,  and  more  than  any  heart  cai\  think."  Then 
they    said,     "  Sir,    the    quest   of  the    Sangreal    is 


THE    SANGREAL.  223 

achieved  right  now  in  you,  and  never  shall  ye  see 
more  of  it  than  ye  have  seen."  "  I  thank  God," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  ''  of  his  great  mercy,  for  that  I 
have  seen,  for  it  sufficeth  me."  Then  he  rose  up  ^ 
and  clothed  himself ;  and  when  he  was  so  arrayed, 
they  marvelled  all,  for  they  knew  it  was  Sir  Laun- 
celot the  good  knight.  And,  after  four  days,  he 
took  his  leave  of  the  lord  of  the  castle,  and  of  all  the 
fellowship  that  were  there,  and  thanked  them  for 
their  great  labor  and  care  of  him.  Then  he  depart- 
ed, and  turned  to  Camelot,  where  he  found  King 
Arthur  and  Queen  Guenever ;  hut  many  of  the 
knights  of  the  Round  Table  Avere  slain  and  de- 
stroyed, more  than  half.  Then  all  the  court  was 
passing  glad  of  Sir  Launcelot :  and  he  told  the  king 
all  his  adventures  that  had  befallen  him  since  he 
departed. 

SIR   GALAHAD. 

Now,  when  Sir  Galahad  had  rescued  Perceval 
from  the  twenty  knights,  he  rode  into  a  vast  forest, 
wherein  he  abode  many  days.  Then  he  took  his 
way  to  the  sea,  and  it  befell  him  that  he  was  benight- 
ed in  a  hermitage.  And  the  good  man  was  glad 
when  he  saw  he  .was  a  knight-errant.  And  when 
they  were  at  rest,  there  came  a  gentlewoman  knock- 
ing at  the  door ;  and  the  good  man  came  to  the  door 
to  wit  what  she  would.  Then  she  said,  "  I  would 
qjeak  with  the  knight  which  is  with  you."     Then 


224  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Galahad  went  to  lier,  and  asked  her  wliat  she  would. 
"  Sir  Galahad,"  said  she,  "  I  will  that  ye  arm  you, 
and  mount  upon  your  horse,  and  follow  me ;  for  I 
will  show  you  the  highest  adventure  that  ever 
'knight  saw."  Then  Galahad  armed  himself  and 
commended  himself  to  God,  and  bade  the  damsel 
go  before,  and  he  would  follow  where  she  led. 

So  she  rode  as  fast  as  her  palfrey  might  bear  her, 
till  she  came  to  the  sea ;  and  there  they  found  the 
ship  where  Sir  Bohort  and  Sir  Perceval  were,  who 
cried  from  the  ship,  "  Sir  Galahad,  you  are  wel- 
come ;  we  have  awaited  you  long."  And  when  he 
heard  them,  he  asked  the  damsel  who  they  were. 
"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  leave  your  horse  here,  and  I 
shall  leave  mine,  and  we  will  join  ourselves  to  their 
company."  So  they  entered  into  the  ship,  and  the 
two  knights  received  them  both  with  great  joy. 
For  they  knew  the  damsel,  that  she  was  Sir  Perce- 
val's sister.  Then  the  wind  arose  and  drove  them 
through  the  sea  all  that  day  and  the  next,  till  the 
ship  arrived  between  two  rocks,  passing  great  and 
marvellous  ;  but  there  they  might  not  land,  for  there 
was  a  whirlpool ;  but  there  was  another  ship,  and 
upon  it  they  might  go  without  danger.  "  Go  we 
thither,"  said  the  gentlewoman,  ''  and  there  shall 
we  see  adventures,  for  such  is  our  Lord's  will." 
Then  Sir  Galahad  blessed  him,  and  entered  therein, 
and  then  next  the  gentlewoman,  and  then  Sir  Bo- 
hort and  Sir  Perceval.  And  when  they  came  on 
board,  they  found  there  the  table  of  silver,  and  the 


TIIK    SANGREAL.  225 

Sangreal,  which  was  covered  with  red  samite.  And 
they  made  great  reverence  thereto,  and  Sir  Galahad 
prayed  a  long  time  to  our  Lord,  that  at  what  time 
he  should  ask  to  pass  out  of  this  world,  he  should 
do  so;  and  a  voice  said  to  him,  "  Galahad,  thou  shalt 
have  thy  request ;  and  when  thou  askest  the  death 
of  thy  body  thou  shalt  have  it,  and  then  shalt  thou 
find  the  life  of  thy  soul." 

And  anon  the  wind  drove  them  across  the  sea,  till 
they  came  to  the  city  of  Sarras.  Then  took  they 
out  of  the  ship  the  table  of  silver,  and  Sir  Perceval 
and  Sir  Bohort  took  it  before,  and  Sir  Galahad  came 
behind,  and  right  so  they  went  to  the  city.  And  at 
the  gate  of  the  city  they  saw  an  old  man,  a  cripple. 
Then  Galahad  called  him,  and  bade  him  help  to 
bear  this  heavy  thing.  ^' Truly,"  said  the  old  man, 
"  it  is  ten  years  since  I  could  not  go  but  with 
crutches."  "  Care  thou  not,"  said  Sir  Galahad, 
"  but  arise  up,  and  show  thy  good  will."  Then  the 
old  man  rose  up,  and  assayed,  and  found  himself  as 
whole  as  ever  he  was  ;  and  he  ran  to  the  table,  and 
took  one  part  with  Sir  Galahad. 

When  they  came  to  the  city,  it  chanced  that  the 
king  was  just  dead,  and  all  the  city  Avas  dismayed, 
and  wist  not  who  might  be  their  king.  Right  so, 
as  they  were  in  council,  there  came  a  voice  among 
them,  and  bade  them  choose  the  youngest  knight  of 
those  three  to  be  their  king.  So  they  made  Sir 
Galahad  king,  by  all  the  assent  of  the  city.  And 
when  ho  was  made  king,  he  commanded  to  make  a 


226  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

chest  of  gold  and  of  precious  stones,  to  hold  the  holy 
vessel.  And  every  day  the  three  companions  would 
come  before  it,  and  make  their  prayers. 
.  Now,  at  the  year's  end,  and  the  same  day  of  the 
year  that  Sir  Galahad  received  the  crown,  he  got 
up  early,  and,  with  his  fellows,  came  to  where  the 
holy  vessel  was ;  and  they  saw  one  kneeling  before 
it  that  had  about  him  a  great  fellowship  of  angels  ; 
and  he  called  Sir  Galahad,  and  said,  ''  Come,  thou 
servant  of  the  Lord,  and  thou  shalt  see  what  thou 
hast  much  desired  to  see."  And  Sir  Galahad's 
mortal  flesh  trembled  right  hard  when  he  began  to 
behold  the  spiritual  things.  Then  said  the  good 
man,  "  Now  wottest  thou  who  I  am  ?  "  "  Nay," 
said  Sir  Galahad.  "  I  am  Joseph  of  Arimathea, 
whom  our  Lord  hath  sent  here  to  thee,  to  bear  thee 
fellowship."  Then  Sir  Galahad  held  up  his  hands 
toward  heaven,  and  said,  "  Now,  blessed  Lord, 
would  I  not  longer  live,  if  it  might  please  thee." 
And  when  he  had  said  these  words,  Sir  Galahad 
went  to  Sir  Perceval  and  to  Sir  Bohort,  and  kissed 
them,  and  commended  them  to  God.  And  then 
he  kneeled  down  before  the  table,  and  made  his 
prayers,  and  suddenly  his  soul  departed,  and  a  great 
multitude  of  angels  bare  his  soul  up  to  heaven,  so 
as  the  two  fellows  could  well  behold  it.  Also  they 
saw  come  from  heaven  a  hand,  but  they  saw  not  the 
body  ;  and  the  hand  came  right  to  the  vessel  and 
bare  it  up  to  heaven.  Since  then  was  there  never 
one  so  hardy  as  to  say  that  he  had  seen  the  Sangreal 
on  earth  anv  more. 


^trilYSESIT 


CHAPTER     XXII. 

SIR  AGRIVAIN'S   TREASON. 

When  Sir  Perceval  and  Sir  Bohort  saw  Sir  Gala- 
had dead,  they  made  as  much  sorrow  as  ever  did 
two  men.  And  if  thej  had  not  been  good  men  they 
might  have  fallen  into  despair.  As  soon  as  Sir 
Galahad  was  buried,  Sir  Perceval  retired  to  a  her- 
mitage out  of  the  city,  and  took  a  religious  clothing ; 
and  Sir  Bohort  was  always  with  him,  but  did  not 
change  his  secular  clothing,  because  he  purposed  to 
return  to  the  realm  of  Loegria.  Thus  a  year  and 
two  months  lived  Sir  Perceval  in  the  hermitage  a 
full  holy  life,  and  then  passed  out  of  this  world,  and 
Sir  Bohort  buried  him  by  his  sister  and  Sir  Galahad. 
Then  Sir  Bohort  armed  himself  and  departed  from 
Sarras,  and  entered  into  a  ship,  and  sailed  to  the 
kingdom  of  Loegria,  and  in  due  time  arrived  safe  at 
Camelot,  where  the  king  was.  Then  was  there 
great  joy  made  of  him  in  the  whole  court,  for  they 
feared  he  had  been  dead.  Then  the  king  made 
great  clerks  to  come  before  him,  that  they  should 
chronicle  of  the  high  adventures  of  the  good  knights. 


228  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

And  Sir  Bohort  told  him  of  the  adventures  that  had 
befallen  him,  and  his  two  fellows,  Sir  Perceval  and 
Sir  Galahad.  And  Sir  Launcelot  told  the  adven- 
tures of  the  Sangreal  that  he  had  seen.  All  this 
was  made  in  great  books,  and  put  up  in  the  church 
at  Salisbury. 

So  King  Artlmr  and  Queen  Guenever  made  great 
joj  of  the  remnant  that  were  come  home,  and 
chiefly  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Bohort.  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  began  to  resort  unto  Queen  Guenever 
again,  and  forgot  the  promise  that  he  made  in  the 
quest ;  so  that  many  in  the  court  spoke  of  it,  and  in 
especial  Sir  Agrivain,  Sir  Gawain's  brother,  for  he 
was  ever  open-mouthed.  So  it  happened  Sir  Ga- 
waiii  and  all  his  brothers  were  in  King  Arthur's 
chamber,  and  then  Sir  Agrivain  said  thus  openly, 
"  I  marvel  that  we  all  are  not  ashamed  to  see  and 
to  know  so  noble  a  knight  as  King  Arthur  so  to  be 
shamed  by  the  conduct  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  the 
queen."  Then  spoke  Sir  Gawain,  and  said,  "Broth- 
er, Sir  Agrivain,  I  pray  you  and  charge  you  move 
not  such  matters  any  more  before  me,  for  be  ye  as- 
sured I  will  not  be  of  your  counsel."  "  Neither 
will  we,"  said  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth.  "  Then 
will  I,"  said  Sir  Modred.  "  I  doubt  you  not,"  said 
Sir  Gawain,  "  for  to  all  mischief  ever  were  ye  prone  ; 
yet  I  would  tliat  ye  left  all  this,  for  I  know  what 
will  come  of  it."  "  Fall  of  it  what  fall  may,"  said 
Sir  Agrivain,  "  I  will  disclose  it  to  the  king."  Witli 
that  came  to  them  King  Arthur.     "  Now,  brotliers, 


SIR  agrivain's  treason.  229 

hold  your  peace,"  said  Sir  Gawain.  "^  We  will 
not,"  said  Sir  Agrivain.  Then  said  Sir  Gawain, 
'- 1  will  not  hear  your  tales,  nor  be  of  your  counsel." 
"  No  more  will  I,"  said  Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Ga- 
lieris,  and  therewith  they  departed,  making  great 
sorrow. 

Then  Sir  Agrivain  told  the  king  all  that  was  said 
in  the  court  of  the  conduct  of  Sir  Launcelot  and  the 
queen,  and  it  grieved  the  king  very  much.  But  he 
would  not  believe  it  to  be  true  without  proof.  So 
Sir  Agrivain  laid  a  plot  to  entrap  Sir  Launcelot  and 
the  queen,  intending  to  take  them  together  un- 
awares. Sir  Agrivain  and  Sir  Modred  led  a  party 
for  this  purpose,  but  Sir  Launcelot  escaped  from 
them,  having  slain  Sir  Agrivain  and  wounded  Sir 
Modred.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  hastened  to  his 
friends,  and  told  them  what  had  happened,  and 
withdrew  with  them  to  the  forest ;  but  he  left  spies 
to  bring  him  tidings  of  whatever  might  be  done. 

So  Sir  Launcelot  escaped,  but  the  queen  remained 
in  the  king's  power,  and  Arthur  could  no  longer 
doubt  of  her  guilt.  And  the  law  was  such  in  those 
days  that  they  who  committed  such  crimes,  of  what 
estate  or  condition  soever  they  were,  must  be  burned 
to  death,  and  so  it  was  ordained  for  Queen  Guenever. 
Then  said  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Gawain,  "  I  pray  you 
make  you  ready,  in  your  best  armor,  with  your 
brethren.  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir  Gareth,  to  bring  my 
queen  to  the  fire,  there  to  receive  her  death." 
''  Nay,  my  most  noble  lord,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  ''  that 

20 


280  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

will  I  never  do ;  for  know  thou  well,  my  heart  will 
never  serve  me  to  see  her  die,  and  it  shall  never 
be  said  that  I  was  of  your  counsel  in  her  death." 
Then  the  king  commanded  Sir  Gaheris  and  Sir  Ga- 
reth  to  be  there,  and  they  said,  "  We  will  be  there, 
as  ye  command  us,  sire,  but  in  peaceable  wise, 
and  bear  no  armor  upon  us." 

So  the  queen  was  led  forth,  and  her  ghostly  fa- 
ther was  brought  to  her  to  shrive  her,  and  there 
was  weeping  and  wailing  of  many  lords  and  ladies. 
And  one  went  and  told  Sir  Launcelot  that  the  queen 
was  led  forth  to  her  death.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  and 
tlie  knights  that  were  with  him  fell  upon  the  troop 
that  guarded  the  queen,  and  dispersed  them,  and 
slew  all  who  withstood  them.  And  in  the  confu- 
sion Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris  were  slain,  for  they 
were  unarmed  and  defenceless.  And  Sir  Launcelot 
carried  away  the  queen  to  his  castle  of  La  Joyeuse 
Garde. 

Then  there  came  one  to  Sir  Gawain  and  told  him 
how  that  Sir  Launcelot  had  slain  the  knights  and 
carried  away  the  queen.  "  0  Lord,  defend  my 
brethren !  "  said  Sir  Gawain.  "  Truly,"  said  the 
man,"*  "  Sir  Gareth  and  Sir  Gaheris  are  slain." 
"  Alas  !  "  said  Sir  Gawain,  ''  now  is  my  joy  gone." 
And  then  he  fell  down  and  swooned,  and  long  he  lay 
there  as  he  had  been  dead. 

When  he  arose  out  of  his  swoon.  Sir  Gawain  ran 
to  the  king,  crying,  "  0  King  Arthur,  mine  uncle, 
my  brothers  are  slain."     Tlien  the  king  wept  and 


SIR  agrivain's  treason.  231 

he  both.  "  My  kmg,  my  lord,  and  mine  imcle," 
said  Sir  Gawain,  "  bear  witness  now  that  I  make 
you  a  promise  that  I  shall  hold  by  my  knighthood, 
that  from  this  day  I  will  never  fail  Sir  Launcelot 
until  the  one  of  us  have  slain  the  other.  I  will  seek 
Sir- Launcelot  throughovit  seven  kings'  realms,  but  I 
shall  slay  him  or  he  shall  slay  me."  "  Ye  shall  not 
need  to  seek  him,"  said  the  king,  ^'  for  as  I  hear, 
Sir  Launcelot  will  abide  me  and  you  in  the  Joyeuse 
Garde;  and  much  people  draweth  imto  him,  as  I 
hear  say."  "  That  may  I  believe,"  said  Sir  Ga- 
Waiii ;  "  but,  my  lord,  summon  your  friends,  and  I 
will  siunmon  mine."  "  It  shall  be  done,"  said  th.c 
king.  So  then  the  king  sent  letters  and  writs 
throughout  all  England,  both  in  the  length  and 
breadth,  to  summon  all  his  knights.  And  unto  Ai- 
thur  drew  many  knights,  dukes,  and  earls,  so  that 
he  had  a  great  host.  Thereof  heard  Sir  Launcelot, 
and  collected  all  whom  he  could ;  and  many  good 
knights  held  with  him,  both  for  his  sake  and  for  the 
queen's  sake.  But  King  Arthur's  host  was  too  great 
for  Sir  Launcelot  to  abide  him  in  the  field  ;  and  he 
was  full  loath  to  do  battle  against  the  king.  So  Sir 
Launcelot  drew  him  to  his  strong  castle,  with  all 
manner  of  provisions.  Then  came  King  Arthur 
with  Sir  Gawain,  and  laid  siege  all  about  La  Joy- 
euse Garde,  both  the  town  and  the  castle  ;  but  in  no 
wise  would  Sir  Launcelot  ride  out  of  his  castle, 
neither  suffer  any  of  his  knights  to  issue  out,  until 
many  weeks  were  past. 


232  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Then  it  befell  upon  a  day  in  harvest-time,  Sir 
Launcelot  looked  over  the  wall,  and  spoke  aloud  to 
King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain,  ''  My  lords  both,  all 
is  in  vain  that  ye  do  at  this  siege,  for  here  ye  shall 
win  no  worship,  but  only  dishonor ;  for  if  I  list  to 
come  out,  and  my  good  knights,  I  shall  soon  make 
an  end  of  this  war."  "  Come  forth,"  said  Arthur, 
''if  thou  darest,  and  I  promise  thee  I  shall  meet 
thee  in  the  midst  of  the  field."  "  God  forbid  me," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  that  I  should  encounter  with 
the  most  noble  king  that  made  me  knight."  "  Fie 
upon  thy  fair  language,"  said  the  king,  "  for  know 
thou  well  I  am  thy  mortal  foe,  and  ever  will  be  to 
my  dying  day."  And  Sir  Gawain  said,  "  What 
cause  hadst  thou  to  slay  my  brother,  Sir  Gaheris, 
who  bore  no  arms  against  thee,  and  Sir  Gareth, 
whom  thou  madest  knight,  and  who  loved  thee 
more  than  all  my  kin  ?  Therefore  know  thou  well 
I  shall  make  war  to  thee  all  the  while  that  I  may 
live." 

When  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  and 
Sir  Lionel  heard  this  outcry,  they  called  to  them  Sir 
Palamedes,  and  Sir  Saffire  his  brother,  and  Sir  La- 
wayn,  with  many  more,  and  all  went  to  Sir  Launce- 
lot. And  they  said,  "  My  lord.  Sir  Launcelot,  we 
pray  you,  if  you  will  have  our  service,  keep  us  no 
longer  within  these  walls,  for  know  well  all  your 
fair  speech  and  forbearance  will  not  avail  you." 
''  Alas  !  "  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  to  ride  forth  and  to 
do  battle  I  am  full  loath."     Then  he  spake  again 


SIR  agrivain's  treason.  233 

imto  the  king  and  Sir  Gawain,  and  willed  them  to 
keep  out  of  the  battle ;  but  they  despised  his  words. 
So  then  Sir  Launcelot's  fellowship  came  out  of  the 
castle,  in  full  good  array.  And  always  Sir  Launce- 
lot  charged  all  his  knights,  in  any  wise,  to  save 
King  Arthur  and  Sir  Gawain. 

Then  came  forth  Sir  Gawain  from  the  king's  host, 
and  offered  combat,  and  Sir  Lionel  encountered 
with  him,  and  there  Sir  Gawain  smote  Sir  Lionel 
through  the  body,  that  he  fell  to  the  earth  as  if  dead. 
Then  there  began  a  great  conflict,  and  much  people 
were  slain ;  but  ever  Sir  Launcelot  did  what  he 
might  to  save  the  people  on  King  Arthur's  party, 
and  ever  King  Arthur  followed  Sir  Launcelot  to 
slay  him ;  but  Sir  Launcelot  suffered  him,  and  would 
not  strike  again.  Then  Sir  Bohort  encoimtered 
with  King  Arthur,  and  smote  him  down ;  and  he 
aliglited  and  drew  his  sword,  and  said  to  Sir  Laun- 
celot, ''  Shall  I  make  an  end  of  this  war?  "  for  he 
meant  to  have  slain  King  Arthur.  "  Not  so,"  said 
Sir  Launcelot,  "  touch  him  no  more,  for  I  will  never 
see  that  most  noble  king  that  made  me  knight  either 
slain  or  shamed";  and  therewith  Sir  Launcelot 
alighted  off*  his  horse,  and  took  up  the  king,  and 
horsed  him  again,  and  said  thus :  "  My  lord  Arthur, 
for  God's  love,  cease  this  strife."  And  King  Arthur 
looked  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and  the  tears  burst  from 
his  eyes,  thinking  on  tlie  great  courtesy  that  was  in 
Sir  Launcelot  more  than  in  any  other  man ;  and 
therewith  the  king  rode  his  way.     Then  anon  both 


2oi:  K1^G   ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

parties  withdrew  to  repose  them,  and  buried  the 
dead. 

But  the  war  continued,  and  it  was  noised  abroad 
through  all  Christendom,  and  at  last  it  was  told 
afore  the  pope  ;  and  he,  considering  the  great  good- 
ness of  King  Arthur,  and  of  Sir  Launcelot,  called 
unto  him  a  noble  clerk,  which  was  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester,  who'was  then  in  his  dominions,  and  sent 
him  to  King  Arthur,  charging  him  that  he  take  his 
queen,  dame  Guenever,  unto  him  again,  and  make 
peace  with  Sir  Launcelot. 

So,  by  means  of  this  bishop,  peace  was  made  for 
the  space  of  one  year ;  and  King  Arthur  received 
back  i^Q  queen,  and  Sir  Launcelot  departed  from 
the  kingdom  with  all  his  knights,  and  went  to  his 
own  country.  So  they  shipped  at  Cardiff,  and  sailed 
unto  Benwick,  which  some  men  call  Bayonne.  And 
all  the  people  of  those  lands  came  to  Sir  Launcelot, 
and  received  him  home  right  joyfully.  And  Sir 
Launcelot  stablished  and  garnished  all  his  towns 
and  castles,  and  he  greatly  advanced  all  his  noble 
knights.  Sir  Lionel  and  Sir  Bohort,  and  Sir  Hector 
de  Marys,  Sir  Blamor,  Sir  Lawayne,  and  many  oth- 
ers, and  made  them  lords  of  lands  and  castles ;  till 
he  left  himself  no  more  than  any  one  of  them. 

But  when  tlie  year  was  passed.  King  Arthur  and 
Sir  Gawain  came  with  a  great  host,  and  landed  upon 
Sir  Launcelot's  lands,  and  burnt  and  wasted  all  that 
they  might  overrun.  Then  spake  Sir  Bohort  and 
said,  ''  5Iy  lord,  Sir  Launcelot,  give  us  leave  to  meet 


SIR  agrivain's  treason.  235 

them  in  the  field,  and  we  shall  make  them  rue  the 
time  that  ever  thej  came  to  this  country."  Then 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  I  am  full  loath  to  ride  out  with 
my  knights  for  shedding  of  Christian  blood ;  so  we 
will  yet  a  while  keep  our  walls,  and  I  will  send  a 
messenger  unto  my  lord  Arthur,  to  propose  a  treaty  ; 
for  better  is  peace  than  always  war."  So  Sir  Laun- 
celot  sent  forth  a  damsel,  and  a  dwarf  with  her,  re- 
quiring King  Arthur  to  leave  his  warring  upon  his 
lands;  and  so  she  started  on  a  palfrey,  and  the 
dwarf  ran  by  her  side.  And  when  she  came  to  the 
pavilion  of  King  Arthur,  she  alighted,  and  there 
met  her  a  gentle  knight.  Sir  Lucan  the  butler,  and 
said,  "  Fair  damsel,  come  ye  from  Sir  Launcelot  du 
Lac?"  ^' Yea,  sir,"  she  said,  '^  I  come  hither  to 
speak  with  the  king."  "Alas!"  said  Sir  Lucan, 
"  my  lord  Arthur  would  be  reconciled  to  Sir  Laun- 
celot, but  Sir  Gawain  will  not  suffer  him."  And 
with  this.  Sir  Lucan  led  the  damsel  to  the  king, 
where  he  sat  with  Sir  Gawain,  to  hear  what  she 
would  say.  So  when  she  had  told  her  tale,  the 
tears  ran  out  of  the  king's  eyes  ;  and  all  the  lords 
were  forward  to  advise  the  king  to  be  accorded  with 
Sir  Launcelot,  save  only  Sir  Gawain ;  and  he  said, 
"  My  lord,  mine  uncle,  what  will  ye  do  ?  Will  you 
now  turn  back,  now  you  are  so  far  advanced  upon 
your  journey  ?  If  ye  do,  all  the  world  will  speak 
shame  of  you."  "  Nay,"  said  King  Arthur,  "  I  will 
do  as  ye  advise  me  ;  but  do  thou  give  the  damsel  her 
answer,  for  I  may  not  speak  to  her  for  pity." 


236  KING    AKTHUK   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Then  said  Sir  Gawain,  ''  Damsel,  say  ye  to  Sir 
Laiincelot,  that  it  is  waste  labor  to  sue  to  mine 
uncle  for  peace,  and  say  that  I,  Sir  Gawain,  send 
liim  word  that  I  promise  him,  by  the  faith  I  owe 
unto  God  and  to  knighthood,  I  shall  never  leave 
liim  till  he  have  slain  me  or  I  him."  So  the  damsel 
returned ;  and  when  Sir  Launcelot  had  heard  this 
answer,  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

Then  it  befell  on  a  day  Sir  Gawain  came  before 
the  gates,  armed  at  all  points,  and  cried  with  a  loud 
voice,  "  Where  art  thou  now,  thou  false  traitor,  Sir 
Launcelot  ?  Wliy  hidest  thou  thyself  within  holes 
and  walls  like  a  coward  ?  Look  out  now,  thou  trai- 
tor knight,  and  I  will  avenge  upon  thy  body  the 
death  of  my  three  brethren."  All  this  language 
lieard  Sir  Launcelot,  and  the  knights  which  were 
about  him ;  and  they  said  to  him,  "  Sir  Launcelot, 
now  must  ye  defend  you  like  a  knight,  or  else  be 
shamed  for  ever,  for  you  have  slept  overlong  and 
suffered  overmuch."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  spake 
on  high  unto  King  Arthur,  and  said,  "  My  lord  Ar- 
thur, now  I  have  forborne  long,  and  suifered  you  and 
Sir  Gawain  to  do  wliat  ye  would,  and  now  must  I 
needs  defend  myself,  inasmuch  as  Sir  Gawain  hath 
appealed  me  of  treason."  Then  Sir  Launcelot 
armed  him  and  mounted  upon  his  horse,  and  the 
noble  knights  came  out  of  the  city,  and  the  liost 
without  stood  all  apart;  and  so  the  covenant  was 
made  that  no  man  should  come  near  the  two 
knights,  nor  deal  with  them,  till  one  were  dead  or 
viclded. 


SIR  agrivain's  treason.  237 

Then  Sir  Laiincelot  and  Sir  Gawain  departed  a 
great  way  asnnder,  and  then  they  came  together 
with  all  their  horses'  might,  and  each  smote  the 
other  in  the  middle  of  their  shields,  but  neither  of 
them  was  unhorsed,  but  tlieir  horses  fell  to  the 
earth.  And  then  they  leapt  from  their  horses,  and 
drew  their  swords,  and  gave  many  sad  strokes,  so 
that  the  blood  burst  out  in  many  places.  Now  Sir 
Gawain  had  this  gift  from  a  holy  man,  that  every 
day  in  the  year,  from  morning  to  noon,  his  strength 
was  increased  threefold,  and  then  it  fell  again  to  its 
natural  measure.  Sir  Launcelot  was  aware  of  this, 
and  therefore,  during  tlie  three  hours  that  Sir  Ga- 
wain's  strength  was  at  the  height.  Sir  Launcelot  cov- 
ered himself  with  his  shield,  and  'kept  his  might  in 
reserve.  And  during  that  time  Sir  Gawain  gave  him 
many  sad  brunts,  that  all  the  knights  that  looked 
on  marvelled  how  Sir  Launcelot  might  endure  them. 
Then,  when  it  was  past  noon.  Sir  Gawain  had  only 
his  own  might ;  and  when  Sir  Launcelot  felt  him  so 
brought  down,  he  stretched  himself  up,  and  doubled 
his  strokes,  and  gave  Sir  Gawain  such  a  buffet  that 
he  fell  down  on  his  side ;  and  Sir  Launcelot  drew 
back  and  would  strike  no  more.  *'  Why  withdraw- 
est  thou,  false  traitor?  "  then  said  Sir  Gawain;  ''  now 
turn  again  and  slay  me,  for  if  thou  leave  me  thus, 
when  I  am  whole  again,  I  shall  do  battle  with  thee 
again."  "  I  shall  endure  you,  sir,  by  God's  grace," 
said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  but  know  thou  well,  Sir  Ga- 
wain, I  will  never  smite  a  felled  knight."     And  ^o 


238  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

Sir  Laimcelot  went  into  the  city,  and  Sir  Gawain 
was  borne  into  King  Arthur's  pavilion,  and  his 
wounds  were  looked  to. 

Thus  the  siege  endured,  and  Sir  Gawain  lay  help- 
less near  a  month;  and  when  he  was  near  recov- 
ered, came  tidings  unto  King  Arthur  that  made 
him  return  with  all  his  host  to  England. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

MORTE  D'ARTHUR. 

Sir  Modred  was  left  niler  of  all  England,  and 
he  caused  letters  to  be  written,  as  if  from  beyond 
sea,  that  King  Arthur  was  slain  in  battle.  So  he 
called  a  Parliament,  and  made  himself  be  crowned 
king ;  and  he  took  the  queen,  Guenever,  and  said 
plainly  that  he  would  wed  her,  but  she  escaped  from 
him,  and  took  refuge  in  the  Tower  of  London.  And 
Sir  Modred  went  and  laid  siege  about  the  Tower  of 
London,  and  made  great  assaults  thereat,  but  all 
might  not  avail  him.  Then  came  word  to  Sir  Mo- 
dred that  King  Arthur  had  raised  the  siege  of  Sir 
Launcelot,  and  was  coming  home.  Then  Sir  Mo- 
dred summoned  all  the  barony  of  the  land ;  and 
much  people  drew  unto  Sir  Modred,  and  said  they 
would  abide  with  him  for  better  and  for  worse ;  and 
he  drew  a  great  host  to  Dover,  for  there  he  heard 
say  that  King  Arthur  would  arrive. 

And  as  Sir  Modred  was  at  Dover  with  his  host, 
came  King  Arthur,  with  a  great  number  of  ships 
and   galleys,  and    tliere  was   Sir  Modred  awaiting 


240  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

■upon  the  landing.  Then  was  there  launching  of 
great  boats  and  small,  full  of  noble  men  of  arms, 
and  there  was  much  slaughter  of  gentle  knights  on 
both  parts.  But  King  Arthur  was  so  courageous, 
there  might  no  manner  of  knights  prevent  him  to 
land,  and  his  knights  fiercely  followed  him ;  and  so 
they  landed,  and  put  Sir  Modred  aback  so  that  he 
fled,  and  all  his  people.  And  when  the  battle  was 
done.  King  Arthur  commanded  to  bury  his  people 
that  were  dead.  And  then  was  noble  Sir  Gawain 
found,  in  a  great  boat,  lying  more  than  half  dead. 
And  King  Arthur  went  to  him,  and  made  sorrow 
out  of  measure.  "  Mine  uncle,"  said  Sir  Gawain, 
"  know  thou  well  my  death-day  is  come,  and  all  is 
through  mind  own  hastiness  and  wilfulness,  for  I 
am  smitten  upon  the  old  wound  which  Sir  Launce- 
lot  gave  me,  of  the  which  I  feel  I  must  die.  And 
had  Sir  Launcelot  been  with  you  as  of  old,  this  war 
had  never  begun,  and  of  all  this  I  am  the  cause." 
Then  Sir  Gawain  prayed  the  king  to  send  for  Sir 
Launcelot,  and  to  cherish  him  above  all  other 
knights.  And  so,  at  the  hour  of  noon,  Sir  Gawain 
yielded  up  his  spirit,  and  then  the  king  bade  inter 
him  in  a  chapel  within  Dover  Castle ;  and  there  all 
men  may  see  the  skull  of  him,  and  the  same  wound 
is  seen  that  Sir  Launcelot  gave  him  in  battle. 

Then  was  it  told  the  king  that  Sir  Modred  had 
pitched  his  camp  upon  Barrendown  ;  and  the  king 
rode  thither,  and  there  Avas  a  great  battle  betwixt 
them,  and  King  Arthur's  party  stood  best,  and  Sir 
Modred  and  his  party  fled  unto  Canterbury. 


MORTE    d'aRTHUK.  241 

And  there  was  a  day  assigned  betwixt  King  Ar- 
thur and  Sir  Modred  that  they  should  meet  upon 
a  down  beside  Salisbury,  and  not  far  from  the  sea- 
side, to  do  battle  yet  again.  And  at  night,  as  the 
king  slept,  he  dreamed  a  wonderful  dream.  It 
seemed  him  verily  that  there  came  Sir  Gawain  unto 
him,  with  a  number  of  fair  ladies  with  him.  And 
when  King  Arthur  saw  him,  he  said,  "Welcome, 
my  sister's  son ;  I  weened  thou  hadst'  been  dead ; 
and  now  I  see  thee  alive,  great  is  my  joy.  But, 
0  fair  nephew,  what  be  these  ladies  that  hither  be 
come  with  you  ?  "  "  Sir,"  said  Sir  Gawain,  "  all 
these  be  ladies  for  whom  I  have  fought  when  I  was 
a  living  man  ;  and  because  I  did  battle  for  them  in 
righteous  quarrel,  they  have  given  me  grace  to  bring 
me  hither  unto  you,  to  warn  you  of  your  death,  if 
ye  fight  to-morrow  with  Sir  Modred.  Therefore 
take  ye  treaty,  and  proffer  you  largely  for  a  month's 
delay  ;  for  within  a  month  shall  come  Sir  Launcelot 
and  all  his  noble  knights,  and  rescue  you  worship- 
fully,  and  slay  Sir  Modred  and  all  that  hold  with 
him."  And  then  Sir  Gawain  and  all  the  ladies 
vanished.  And  anon  the  king  called  to  fetch  his 
noble  lords  and  wise  bishops  unto  him.  And  when 
they  were  come,  the  king  told  them  his  vision,  and 
what  Sir  Gawain  had  told  him.  Then  the  king  sent 
Sir  Lucan  the  butler,  and  Sir  Bedivere,  with  two 
bishops,  and  charged  them  in  any  wise  to  take  a 
treaty  for  a  month  and  a  day  with  Sir  Modred. 
So  they  departed,    and  came  to  Sir  Modred  ;  and 


242  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

SO,  at  the  last,  Sir  Modred  was  agreed  to  have 
Cornwall  and  Kent,  during  Arthur's  life,  and  all 
England  after  his  death. 

Then  was  it  agreed  that  King  Arthur  and  Sir 
Modred  should  meet  betwixt  both  their  hosts,  and 
each  of  them  should  bring  fourteen  persons,  and 
then  and  there  they  should  sign  the  treaty.  And 
when  King  Arthur  and  his  knights  were  prepared 
to  go  forth,  he  warned  all  his  host,  "If  so  be  ye 
see  any  sword  drawn,  look  ye  come  on  fiercely, 
and  slay  whomsoever  withstandeth,  for  I  in  no  wise 
trust  that  traitor,  Sir  Modred."  In  like  wise  Sir 
Modred  warned  his  host.  So  they  met,  and  were 
agreed  and  accorded  thoroughly.  And  wine  was 
brought,  and  they  drank.  Right  then  came  an 
adder  out  of  a  little  heath-bush,  and  stung  a  knight 
on  the  foot.  And  when  the  knight  felt  him  sting, 
he  looked  down  and  saw  the  adder,  and  then  he 
drew  his  sword  to  slay  the  adder,  and  thought  of  no 
other  harm.  And  when  the  host  on  both  sides  saw 
that  sword  drawn,  they  blew  trumpets  and  horns, 
and  shouted  greatly.  And  King  Arthur  took  his 
horse,  and  rode  to  his  party,  saying,  "  Alas,  this 
unhappy  day !  "  And  Sir  Modred  did  in  like  wise. 
And  never  was  there  a  more  doleful  battle  in  Chris- 
tian land.  And  ever  King  Arthur  rode  throughout 
the  battle,  and  did  full  nobly,  as  a  worthy  king 
should,  and  Sir  Modred  that  day  did  his  devoir, 
and  put  himself  in  great  peril.  And  thus  they 
fought  all  the  long  day,  till  the  most  of  all  the  noble 


MORTE  d'arthur.  243 

knights  lay  dead  upon  the  ground.  Then  the  king 
looked  about  him,  and  saw  of  all  his  host  were  left 
alive  but  two  knights,  Sir  Lucan  the  butler  and 
Sir  Bedivere  his  brother,  and  they  were  full  sore 
wounded. 

Then  King  Arthur  saw  where  Sir  Modred  leaned 
upon  his  sword  among  a  great  heap  of  dead  men. 
"  Now  give  me  my  spear,"  said  Arthur  unto  Sir 
Lucan,  "  for  yonder  I  espy  the  traitor  that  hath 
wrought  all  this  woe."  ''  Sir,  let  him  be,"  said  Sir 
Lucan  ;  '^  for  if  ye  pass  this  unhappy  day,  ye  shall 
be  right  well  revenged  upon  him.  Remember  what 
the  sprite  of  Sir  Gawain  told  you,  and  leave  off  now, 
for  ye  have  won  the  field  ;  and  if  ye  leave  off  now, 
this  evil  day  of  destiny  is  past."  "  Betide  me  life, 
betide  me  death,"  said  King  Arthur,  "  he  shall  not 
now  escape  my  hands."  Then  the  king  took  his 
spear  in  both  hands,  and  ran  toward  Sir  Modred, 
crying,  "  Traitor,  now  is  thy  death-day  come." 
And  there  King  Arthur  smote  Sir  Modred  under 
the  shield,  with  a  thrust  of  his  spear  through  the 
body.  And  when  Sir  Modred  felt  that  he  had  his 
death-wound,  with  the  might  that  he  had  he  smote 
King  Arthur,  with  his  sword  holden  in  both  his 
hands,  on  the  side  of  the  head,  that  the  sword 
pierced  the  helmet  and  the  brain-pan ;  and  then  Sir 
Modred  fell  stark  dead  upon  the  earth.  And  the 
noble  Arthur  fell  in  a  swoon  to  the  earth.  And  Sir 
Lucan  the  butler  and  Sir  Bedivere  raised  him  up, 
and  gently  led  him  betwixt  them  both  to  a  little 


244  KINa    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    ICNIGHTS. 

chapel  not  far  from  the  sea-side.  And  when  the 
king  was  there,  he  thought  him  well  eased.  Then 
heard  thej  people  crj  in  the  field.  And  Sir  Lucan 
went  to  see  what  that  cry  betokened ;  and  he  saw  by 
the  moonlight  that  pillers  and  robbers  were  come  to 
rob  the  dead.  And  he  returned,  and  said  to  the 
king,  "  By  my  rede,  it  is  best  that  we  bring  you  to 
some  town."  "  I  would  it  were  so,"  said  the  king. 
And  when  the  king  tried  to  go,  he  fainted.  Then 
Sir  Lucan  took  up  the  king  on  the  one  part, 
and  Sir  Bedivere  on  the  other  part ;  and  in  the 
lifting.  Sir  Lucan  fell  in  a  swoon  to  the  earth,  for 
he  was  grievously  wounded.  And  then  the  noble 
knight's  heart  burst.  And  when  the  king  awoke, 
he  beheld  Sir  Lucan  how  he  lay  foaming  at  the 
mouth,  and  speechless.  "  Alas  !  "  said  the  king, 
^'  this  is  to  me  a  full  heavy  sight,  to  see  this  noble 
duke  so  die  for  my  sake  ;  for  he  would  have  holpen 
me  that  had  more  need  of  help  than  I,  and  he  would 
not  complain,  his  heart  was  so  set  to  help  me." 
Then  Sir  Bedivere  wept  for  his  brother.  "  Leave 
this  mourning  and  weeping,"  said  the  king,  "  for 
wit  thou  well,  if  I  might  live  myself,  the  death  of 
Sir  Lucan  would  grieve  me  evermore ;  but  my  time 
hieth  fast.  Therefore,"  said  Arthur  unto  Sir  Bedi- 
vere, "  take  thou  Excalibar,  my  good  sword,  and  go 
with  it  to  yonder  water-side  ;  and  when  thou  comest 
there,  I  charge  thee  throw  my  sword  in  that  water, 
and  come  again  and  tell  me  what  thou  there  seest." 
''  My  lord,"  said   Sir  Bedivere,   "  your  command- 


MORTK  d'arthur.  245 

ment  shall  be  done."  So  Sir  Bedivere  departed, 
and  by  the  way  he  beheld  that  noble  sword,  that  the 
pommel  and  the  haft  were  all  of  precious  stones  ; 
and  then  he  said  to  himself,  "  If  I  throw  this  rich 
sword  into  the  water,  no  good  shall  come  thereof, 
but  only  harm  and  loss."  And  then  Sir  Bedivere 
hid  Excalibar  under  a  tree.  And  so,  as  soon  as  he 
might,  he  came  again  unto  the  king.  ''  What  saw- 
est  thou  there  ? "  said  the  king.  "  Sir,"  he  said, 
"  I  saw  nothing.  "  Alas  !  thou  hast  deceived  me," 
said  the  king.  "  Go  thou  lightly  again,  and  as  thou 
love  me,  spare  not  to  throw  it  in."  Then  Sir  Bedi- 
vere went  again,  and  took  the  sword  in  his  hand  to 
throw  it;  but  again  it  beseemed  him  but  sin  and 
shame  to  throw  away  that  noble  sword,  and  he  hid 
it  away  again,  and  returned,  and  told  the  king  he 
had  done  his  commandment.  "  What  sawest  thou 
there  ? "  said  the  king.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  I  saw 
nothing  but  waters  deep  and  waves  wan."  ''  Ah, 
traitor  untrue  !  "  said  King  Arthur,  "  now  hast 
thou  betrayed  me  twice.  And  yet  thou  art  named 
a  noble  knight,  and  hast  been  lief  and  dear  to  me. 
But  now  go  again,  and  do  as  I  bid  thee,  for  thy  long 
tarrying  putteth  me  in  jeopardy  of  my  life."  Then 
Sir  Bedivere  went  to  the  sword,  and  lightly  took  it  up, 
and  went  to  the  water-side,  and  he  bound  the  girdle 
about  the  hilt,  and  then  he  threw  the  sword  as  far 
into  the  water  as  he  might.  And  there  came  an 
arm  and  a  hand  out  of  the  water,  and  met  it,  and 
caught  it,  and  shook  it  thrice  and  brandished  it, 

21* 


210  KING   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

and  then  vanished  away  the  hand  with  the  sword 
in  the  water. 

Then  Sir  Bedivere  came  again  to  the  king,  and 
told  him  what  he  saw.  "  Help  me  hence,"  said  the 
king,  "  for  I  fear  I  have  tarried  too  long."  Then 
Sir  Bedivere  took  the  king  on  his  back,  and  so  went 
with  him  to  that  water-side ;  and  when  they  came 
there,  even  fast  by  the  bank  there  rode  a  little  barge 
with  many  fair  ladies  in  it,  and  among  them  was  a 
queen  ;  and  all  had  black  hoods,  and  they  wept  and 
shrieked  when  they  saw  King  Arthur. 

^'  Now  put  me  in  the  barge,"  said  the  king.  And 
there  received  him  three  queens  with  great  mourn- 
ing, and  in  one  of  their  laps  King  Arthur  laid  his 
head.  And  the  queen  said,  "Ah,  dear  brother,  why 
have  ye  tarried  so  long?  Alas!  this  wound  on  your 
head  hath  caught  overmuch  cold."  And  then  they 
rowed  from  the  land,  and  Sir  Bedivere  beheld  them 
go  from  him.  Then  he  cried  :  "Ah,  my  lord  Ar- 
thur, will  ye  leave  me  here  alone  among  mine  ene- 
mies ?  "  "  Comfort  thyself,"  said  the  king,  "  for 
in  me  is  no  further  help ;  for  I  will  to  the  Isle  of 
Avalon,  to  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound."  And 
as  soon  as  Sir  Bedivere  had  lost  sight  of  the  barge, 
he  wept  and  wailed  ;  then  he  took  the  forest,  and 
went  all  that  night,  and  in  the  morning  he  was  ware 
of  a  chapel  and  a  hermitage. 

Then  went  Sir  Bedivere  thither ;  and  when  he 
came  into  the  chapel,  he  saw  where  lay  an  hermit 
on  the  ground,  near  a  tomb  that  was  newly  graven. 


King  Arthur  grievously   wounded  Is  received  into  the  boat  by  three  Queens,  to  be  carried 
U)  the  Island  of  Avalon.  Page  24G 


r. 


[UHJVBBSITT] 


MORTK  d'arthuu.  247 

"  Sir,"  said  Sir  Bedivere,  "  what  man  is  there 
buried  that  ye  pray  so  near  imto  ? "  "  Fair  son," 
said  the  hermit,  ''I  know  not  verily.  But  this  night 
there  came  a  number  of  ladies,  and  brought  hither 
one  dead,  and  prayed  me  to  bury  him."  "  Alas  !  " 
said  Sir  Bedivere,  "  that  was  my  lord.  King  Arthur." 
Then  Sir  Bedivere  swooned  ;  and  when  he  awoke, 
he  prayed  the  hermit  he  might  abide  with  him,  to 
live  with  fasting  and  prayers.  "  Ye  are  welcome," 
said  the  hermit.  So  there  bode  Sir  Bedivere  with 
the  hermit ;  and  he  put  on  poor  clothes,  and  served 
the  hermit  full  lowly  in  fasting  and  in  prayers. 

Thus  of  Arthur  I  find  never  more  written  in  books 
that  be  authorized,  nor  more  of  the  very  certainty 
of  his  death  ;  but  thus  was  he  led  away  in  a  ship, 
wherein  were  three  queens ;  the  one  was  King  Ar- 
thur's sister,  Queen  Morgane  le  Fay ;  the  other 
was  Viviane,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake ;  and  the  third 
was  the  queen  of  North  Galis.  And  this  tale  Sir 
Bedivere,  knight  of  the  Table  Round,  made  to  bo 
written. 

Yet  some  men  say  that  King  Arthur  is  not  dead, 
but  hid  away  into  another  place,  and  men  say  that 
he  shall  come  again  and  reign  over  England.  But 
many  say  that  there  is  written  on  his  tomb  this 
verse  :  — 

"  Hie  jacet  Arthurus,  Hex  quoiidam,  Rexque  fidurus." 
Here  Arthur  lies,  Iving  once  and  King  to  be. 

And  when  Queen  Guenever  understood  that  King 
Arthur  was  slain,  and  all  the  noble  knights  with 


24:8  KINO   ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

him,  she  stole  away,  and  fire  ladies  with  her ;  and 
so  she  went  to  Almesbury,  and  made  herself  a  nun, 
and  ware  white  clothes  and  black,  and  took  great 
penance  as  ever  did  sinful  lady,  and  lived  in  fasting, 
prayers,  and  alms-deeds.  And  there  she  was  abbess 
and  ruler  of  the  nuns.  Now  turn  we  from  her,  and 
speak  of  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake. 

When  Sir  Launcelot  heard  in  his  country  that 
Sir  Modred  was  crowned  king  of  England,  and 
made  war  against  his  own  uncle.  King  Arthur,  then 
was  Sir  Launcelot  wroth  out  of  measure,  and  said 
to  his  kinsmen :  "  Alas  that  double  traitor.  Sir 
Modred  !  now  it  repenteth  me  that  ever  he  escaped 
out  of  my  hands."  Then  Sir  Launcelot  and  his  fel- 
lows made  ready  in  all  haste,  with  ships  and  galleys, 
to  pass  into  England ;  and  so  he  passed  over  till  he 
came  to  Dover,  and  there  he  landed  with  a  great 
army.  Then  Sir  Launcelot  was  told  that  King  Ar- 
thur was  slain.  ^' Alas!"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  this 
is  the  heaviest  tidings  that  ever  came  to  me."  Then 
he  called  the  kings,  dukes,  barons,  and  knights,  and 
said  thus  :  "  My  fair  lords,  I  thank  you  all  for  com- 
ing into  this  country  with  me,  but  we  came  too  late, 
and  that  shall  repent  me  while  I  live.  But  since  it 
is  so,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  ''  I  will  myself  ride  and 
seek  my  lady,  Queen  Guenever,  for  I  have  heard 
say  she  hath  fled  into  the  west ;  therefore  ye  shall 
abide  me  here  fifteen  days,  and  if  I  come  not  within 
that  time,  then  take  your  ships  and  your  host,  and 
depart  into  your  country." 


MORTE  d'arthur.  249 

So  Sir  Launcelot  departed  and  rode  westerly,  and 
there  he  sought  many  days ;  and  at  last  he  came  to 
a  nunnery,  and  was  seen  of  Queen  Guenever  as  he 
walked  in  the  cloister ;  and  when  she  saw  him,  she 
swooned  away.  And  when  she  might  speak,  she 
bade  him  to  be  called  to  her.  And  when  Sir  Laun- 
celot  was  brought  to  her,  she  said  :  "  Sir  Launcelot, 
I  require  thee  and  beseech  thee,  for  all  the  love  that 
ever  was  betwixt  ns,  that  thou  never  see  me  more, 
but  return  to  thy  kingdom  and  take  thee  a  wife, 
and  live  with  her  with  joy  and  bliss  ;  and  pray  for 
me  to  my  Lord,  that  I  may  get  my  soul's  health." 
"  Nay,  madam,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  wit  you  well 
that  I  shall  never  do  ;  but  the  same  destiny  that  ye 
have  taken  you  to  will  I  take  me  unto,  for  to  please 
and  serve  God."  And  so  they  parted,  with  tears 
and  much  lamentation ;  and^  the  ladies  bare  the 
queen  to  her  chamber,  and  Sir  Launcelot  took  his 
horse  and  rode  away,  weeping. 

And  at  last  Sir  Launcelot  was  ware  of  a  hermit- 
age and  a  chapel,  and  then  he  heard  a  little  bell 
ring  to  mass ;  and  thither  he  rode  and  alighted,  and 
tied  his  horse  to  the  gate,  and  heard  mass.  And  he 
that  sang  the  mass  was  the  hermit  with  whom  Sir 
Bedivere  had  taken  up  his  abode  ;  and  Sir  Bedivere 
knew  Sir  Launcelot,  and  they  spake  together  after 
mass.  But  when  Sir  Bedivere  had  told  his  tale. 
Sir  Launcelot's  heart  almost  burst  for  sorrow. 
Then  he  kneeled  down,  and  prayed  the  hermit  to 
shrive  him,   and   besought   that   he   might  be   his 


250  KING    ARTHUR   AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

brother.  Then  the  hermit  said,  "  I  will  gladly  " ; 
and  then  he  put  a  habit  upon  Sir  Launcelot,  and 
there  he  served  God  day  and  night,  mth  prayers 
and  fastings. 

And  the  great  host  abode  at  Dover  till  the  end  of 
the  fifteen  days  set  by  Sir  Launcelot,  and  then  Sir 
Bohort  made  them  to  go  home  again  to  their  own 
country ;  and  Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Hector  de  Marys,  Sir 
Blamor,  and  many  others,  took  on  them  to  ride 
through  all  England  to  seek  Sir  Launcelot.  So  Sir 
Bohort  by  fortune  rode  until  he  came  to  the  same 
chapel  where  Sir  Launcelot  was ;  and  when  he  saw 
Sir  Launcelot  in  that  manner  of  clothing,  he  prayed 
,the  hermit  that  he  might  be  in  that  same.  And  so 
there  was  an  habit  put  upon  him,  and  there  ho 
lived  in  prayers  and  fasting.  And  within  half  a 
year  came  others  of  the  knights,  their  fellows,  and 
took  such  a  habit  as  Sir  Launcelot  and  Sir  Bohort 
had.  Thus  they  endured  in  great  penance  six 
years. 

And  upon  a  night  there  came  a  vision  to  Sir 
Launcelot,  and  charged  him  to  haste  him  toward 
Almesbury,  and  "  by  the  time  thou  come  there, 
thou  shalt  find  Queen  Guenever  dead."  Then  Sir 
Launcelot  rose  up  early,  and  told  the  hermit  thereof. 
Then  said  the  hermit,  ^'^It  were  well  that  ye  disobey 
not  this  vision."  And  Sir  Launcelot  took  his  seven 
companions  with  him,  and  on  foot  they  went  from 
Glastonbury  to  Almesbury,  which  is  more  than 
thirty  miles.     And  when  they  were  come  to.Almes- 


MORTE   d'aRTHUR.  251 

bury,  they  found  that  Queen  Guenever  died  but 
half  an  hour  before*  Then  Sir  Launcelot  saw  her 
visage,  but  he  wept  not  greatly,  but  sighed.  And 
so  he  did  all  the  observance  of  the  service  himself, 
both  the  "  dirige  "  at  night,  and  at  morn  he  sang 
mass.  And  there  was  prepared  an  horse-bier,  and 
Sir  Launcelot  and  his  fellows  followed  the  bier  on 
foot  from  Almesbury  until  they  came  to  Glaston- 
bury ;  and  she  was  wrapped  in  cered  clothes,  and 
laid  in  a  coffin  of  marble.  And  when  she  was  put 
in  the  earth.  Sir  Launcelot  swooned,  and  lay  long 
as  one  dead. 

And  Sir  Launcelot  never  after  ate  but  little  meat, 
nor  drank  ;  but  continually  mourned.  And  within 
six  weeks  Sir  Launcelot  fell  sick ;  and  he  sent  for  the 
hermit  and  all  his  true  fellows,  and  said,  "  Sir  her- 
mit, I  pray  you  give  me  all  my  rights  that  a  Chris- 
tian man  ought  to  have."  "  It  shall  not  need,"  said 
Ihe  hermit  and  all  his  fellows  ;  "  it  is  but  heaviness 
of  your  blood,  and  to-morrow  morn  you  shall  be 
well."  "  My  fair  lords,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  my 
careful  body  will  into  the  earth ;  I  have  warning 
more  than  now  I  will  say ;  therefore  give  me  my 
rights."  So  when  he  was  houseled  and  aneled, 
and  had  all  that  a  Christian  man  ought  to  have,  he 
prayed  the  hermit  that  his  fellows  might  bear  his 
body  to  Joyous  Garde.  (Some  men  say  it  was  Aln- 
wick, and  some  say  it  was  Bamborough.)  "  It  re- 
penteth  me  sore,"  said  Sir  Launcelot,  "  but  I  made 
a  vow  aforetime  that  in  Joyous  Garde  I  would  be 


252  KING    ARTHUR    AND    HIS    KNIGHTS. 

buried."  Then  there  was  weeping  and  wringing  of 
hands  among  his  fellows.  And  tliat  night  Sir  Laun- 
celot  died  ;  and  when  Sir  Boliort  and  his  fellows 
came  to  his  bedside  the  next  morning,  they  found 
him  stark  dead ;  and  he  lay  as  if  he  had  smiled, 
and  the  sweetest  savor  all  about  him  that  ever  they 
knew. 

And  they  put  Sir  Launcelot  into  the  same  horse- 
bier  that  Queen  Guenever  was  laid  in,  and  the  her- 
mit and  they  all  together  went  with  the  body  till 
they  came  to  Joyous  Garde.  And  there  they  laid 
his  corpse  in  the  body  of  the  quire,  and  sang  and 
read  many  psalms  and  prayers  over  him.  And  ever 
his  visage  was  laid  open  and  naked,  that  all  folks 
might  behold  him.  And  right  thus,  as  they  were 
at  their  service,  there  came  Sir  Hector  de  Maris, 
that  had  seven  years  sought  Sir  Launcelot  his 
brother,  through  all  England,  Scotland,  and  Wales. 
And  when  Sir  Hector  heard  such  sounds  in  the 
chapel  of  Joyous  Garde,  he  alighted  and  came  into 
the  quire.  And  all  they  knew  Sir  Hector.  Then 
went  Sir  Bohort,  and  told  him  how  there  lay  Sir 
Launcelot  his  brother  dead.  Then  Sir  Hector  threw 
his  shield,  his  sword,  and  helm  from  him.  And 
when  he  beheld  Sir  Launcelot' s  visage,  it  were  hard 
for  any  tongue  to  tell  the  doleful  complaints  he  made 
for  his  brother.  "  Ah,  Sir  Launcelot !  "  he  said, 
"  there  thou  liest.  And  now  I  dare  to  say  thou 
wert  never  matclicd  of  none  earthly  knight's  hand. 
And  thou  wert  the  courteousest  knight  that  ever 


MORTE  d'arthur.  253 

bare  shield ;  and  tliou  wert  the  truest  friend  to  tliy 
lover  that  ever  bestrode  horse  ;  and  thou  wert  the 
truest  lover,  of  a  sinful  man,  that  ever  loved  woman ; 
and  thou  w^ert  the  kindest  man  that  ever  struck  with 
sword.  And  thou  wert  the  goodliest  person  that 
ever  came  among  press  of  knights.  And  thou  wert 
the  meekest  man,  and  the  gentlest,  that  ever  ate  in 
hall  among  ladies.  And  thou  wert  the  sternest 
knight  to  thy  mortal  foe  that  ever  put  spear  in  the 
rest."  Then  there  was  weeping  and  dolor  out  of 
measure.  Thus  they  kept  Sir  Launcelot's  corpse 
fifteen  days,  and  then  they  buried  it  with  great 
devotion. 

Then  they  went  back  with  the  hermit  to  his  her- 
mitage. And  Sir  Bedivere  was  there  ever  still  her- 
mit to  his  life's  end.  And  Sir  Bohort,  Sir  Hector, 
Sir  Blamor,  and  Sir  Bleoberis  went  into  the  Holy 
Land.  And  these  four  knights  did  many  battles 
upon  the  miscreants,  the  Turks  ;  and  there  they 
died  upon  a  Good  Friday,  as  it  pleased  God. 

Thus  endeth  this  noble  and  joyous  book,  entitled 
La  Morte  d' Arthur ;  notwithstanding  it  treateth  of 
the  birth,  life,  and  acts  of  the  said  King  Arthur,  and 
of  his  noble  Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  their  mar- 
vellous enquests  and  adventures,  the  achieving  of 
the  Sangreal,  and,  in  the  end,  le  Morte  d' Arthur, 
with  the  dolorous  death  and  departing  out  of  this 
world  of  them  all.     Which  book  was  reduced  into 

22 


254  KING    ARTHUR   AND   HIS    KNIGHTS. 

English  by  Sir  Thomas  Mallory,  Knight,  and  divided 
into  twenty-one  books,  chaptered  and  imprinted  and 
finished  in  the  Abbey  Westmestre,  the  last  day  of 
July,  the  year  of  our  Lord  MCCCCLXXXV. 

Caxton  me  fieri  fecit. 


THE   AGE   OF   CHIVALRY. 


PART    II. 

THE    MABINOGEON. 


THE    MABINOGEON. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  BRITONS. 

The  earliest  inhabitants  of  Britain  are  supposed 
to  have  been  a  branch  of  that  great  family  known 
in  history  by  the  designation  of  Celts.  Cambria, 
which  is  a  frequent  name  for  Wales,  is  thought  to 
be  derived  from  Cymri,  the  name  which  the  Welsh 
traditions  apply  to  an  immigrant  people  who  en- 
tered the  island  from  the  adjacent  continent.  This 
name  is  thought  to  be  identical  with  those  of  Cim- 
merians and  Cimbri,  under  which  the  Greek  and 
Roman  historians  describe  a  barbarous  people,  who 
spread  themselves  from  the  north  of  the  Euxine 
over  the  whole  of  Northwestern  Europe. 

The  origin  of  the  names  Wales  and  Welsh  has 
been  much  canvassed.  Some  writers  make  them  a 
derivation  from  Gael  or  Gaul,  which  names  are 
said  to  signify  "  woodlanders '' ;  others  observe  that 
Walsh^  in  tlie  Northern  languages,  signifies  a  stran- 
g-er^  and  that  the  aboriginal  Britons  were  so  called 

22* 


258  THE    MABINOGEON. 

by  those  who  at  a  later  era  invaded  the  island  and 
possessed  the  greater  part  of  it,  the  Saxons  and 
Angles. 

The  Romans  held  Britain  from  the  invasion  of 
Julius  Caesar  till  their  voluntary  withdrawal  from 
the  island,  A.  D.  420,  —  that  is,  about  five  hundred 
years.  In  that  time  there  must  have  been  a  wide 
diffusion  of  their  arts  and  institutions  among  the 
natives.  The  remains  of  roads,  cities,  and  fortifica- 
tions show  that  they  did  much  to  develop  and  im- 
prove the  country,  while  those  of  their  villas  and 
castles  prove  that  many  of  the  settlers  possessed 
wealth  and  taste  for  the  ornamental  arts.  Yet  the 
Roman  sway  was  sustained  chiefly  by  force,  and 
never  extended  over  the  entire  island.  The  north- 
ern portion,  now  Scotland,  remained  independent, 
and  the  western  portion,  constituting  Wales  and 
Cornwall,  was  only  nominally  subjected. 

Neither  did  the  later  invading  hordes  succeed  in 
subduing  the  remoter  sections  of  the  island.  For 
ages  after  the  arrival  of  the  Saxons  under  Hen- 
gist  and  Ilorsa,  A.  D.  449,  the  whole  western 
coast  of  Britain  was  possessed  by  the  aboriginal 
inhabitants,  engaged  in  constant  warfare  with  the 
invaders. 

It  has,  therefore,  been  a  favorite  boast  of  tlte  peo- 
ple of  Wales  and  Cornwall,  that  the  original  Britisli 
stock  flourishes  in  its  unmixed  purity  only  among 
them.  We  see  this  notion  flashing  out  in  poetry 
occasionally,  as  when  Gray,  in  "  The  Bard,"  pro- 


THE    BRITONS.  259 

phetically  describing  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  of 
the  Tudor,  a  Welsh  race,  says: 

"  Her  eye  proclaims  her  of  the  Briton  line  '^ ; 

and,  contrasting  the  princes  of  the  Tudor  with  those 
of  the  Norman  race,  he  exclaims  ; 

"All  hail,  ye  genuine  kings,  Britannia^s  issue,  hail !  " 
THE   WELSH   LANGUAGE   AND   LITERATURE. 

The  Welsh  language  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Eu- 
rope. It  possesses  poems  the  origin  of  which  is  re- 
ferred with  probability  to  the  sixth  century.  The 
language  of  some  of  these  is  so  antiquated,  that  the 
best  scholars  differ  about  the  interpretation  of  many 
passages ;  but,  generally  speaking,  the  body  of  po- 
etry which  the  Welsh  possess,  from  the  year  1000 
downwards,  is  intelligible  to  those  who  are  acquaint- 
ed with  the  modern  language. 

Till  within  the  last  half-century  these  composi- 
tions remained  buried  in  the  libraries  of  colleges  or 
of  individuals,  and  so  difficult  of  access  that  no  suc- 
cessful attempt  was  made  to  give  them  to  the  world. 
This  reproach  was  removed,  after  ineffectual  appeals 
to  the  patriotism  of  the  gentry  of  Wales,  by  Owen 
Jones,  a  furrier  of  London,  who  at  his  own  expense 
collected  and  published  the  chief  productions  of 
Welsh  literature,  under  the  title  of  the  Myvyrian 
Archaeology  of  Wales.  In  this  task  he  was  assisted 
by  Dr.  Owen  and  other  Welsh  scholars. 


250  THE  3iabin:ogeon. 

After  the  cessation  of  Jones's  exertions,  the  old 
apathy  returned,  and  continued  till  within  a  few 
years.  Dr.  Owen  exerted  himself  to  obtain  support 
for  the  publication  of  the  Mabinogeon  or  Prose  Tales 
of  the  Welsh,  but  died  without  accomplishing  his 
purpose,  which  has  since  been  carried  into  execu- 
tion by  Lady  Charlotte  Guest.  The  legends  which 
fill  the  remainder  of  this  volume  are  taken  from  this 
work,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken  more  fully 
in  the  introductory  chapter  to  the  First  Part. 

THE   WELSH    BARDS. 

The  authors  to  whom  the  oldest  Welsh  poems 
are  attributed  are  Aneurin,  who  is  supposed  to  have 
lived  A.  D.  500  to  550,  and  Taliesin,  Llywarch 
Hen  (Llywarch  the  Aged),  and  Myrddin  or  Merlin, 
who  were  a  few  years  later.  The  authenticity  of 
the  poems  which  bear  their  names  has  been  assailed, 
and  it  is  still  an  open  question  how  many  and  which 
of  them  are  authentic,  though  it  is  hardly  to  be 
doubted  that  some  are  so.  The  poem  of  Aneurin 
entitled  the  "  Gododin,"  bears  very  strong  marks 
of  authenticity.  Aneurin  was  one  of  the  Northern 
Britons  of  Strath-Clyde,  who  have  left  to  that  part 
of  the  district  they  inhabited  the  name  of  Cumber- 
land, or  Land  of  the  Cymri.  Li  this  poem  he  la- 
ments the  defeat  of  his  countrymen  by  the  Saxons 
at  the  battle  of  Cattraetli,  in  consequence  of  having 
partaken  too  freely  of  the  mead  before  joining  in 


THE    BRITONS.  261 

combat.  The  bard  himself  and  two  of  his  fellow- 
warriors  were  all  who  escaped  from  the  field.  A 
portion  of  this  poem  has  been  translated  by  Gray, 
of  which  the  following  is  an  extract :  — 

"  To  Cattraeth's  vale,  in  glittering  row, 
Twice  two  hundred  warriors  go  ; 
Every  warrior's  manly  neck 
Chains  of  regal  honor  deck, 
Wreathed  in  many  a  golden  link ; 
Erom  the  golden  cup  they  drink 
Nectar  that  the  bees  produce, 
Or  the  grape's  exalted  juice. 
Flushed  with  mirth  and  hope  they  bum, 
But  none  to  Cattraeth's  vale  return, 
Save  Aeron  brave,  and  Conan  strong, 
Bursting  through  the  bloody  throng, 
And  I,  the  meanest  of  them  all, 
That  live  to  weep,  and  sing  their  fall." 

The  works  of  Taliesin  are  of  much  more  ques- 
tionable authenticity.  There  is  a  story  of  the 
adventures  of  Taliesin  so  strongly  marked  with 
mythical  traits  as  to  cast  suspicion  on  the  writings 
attributed  to  him.  This  story  will  be  found  in  the 
subsequent  pages. 

THE   TRIADS. 

The  Triads  are  a  peculiar  species  of  poetical  com- 
position, of  which  the  Welsh  bards  have  left  numer- 
ous examples.  They  are  enumerations  of  a  triad  of 
persons,  or  events,  or  observations,  strung  together 
in  one  short  sentence.     This  form  of  composition, 


262  THE   MABINOGEON. 

originally  invented,  in  all  likelihood,  to  assist  the 
memory,  has  been  raised  by  the  Welsh  to  a  degree 
of  elegance  of  which  it  hardly  at  first  sight  appears 
susceptible.  The  Triads  are  of  all  ages,  some  of 
them  probably  as  old  as  anything  in  the  language. 
Short  as  they  are  individually,  the  collection  in  the 
Myvyrian  Archaeology  occupies  more  than  one 
hundred  and  seventy  pages  of  double  columns. 
We  will  give  some  specimens,  beginning  with  per- 
sonal triads,  and  giving  the  first  place  to  one  of 
King  Arthur's  own  composition:  — 

"  I  have  three  heroes  in  battle : 
Mael  the  tall,  and  Llyr,  with  his  army. 
And  Caradoc,  the  pillar  of  Wales." 

"  The  three  principal  bards  of  the  island  of  Britain  :  — 
Merlin  Ambrose 

Merlin  the  son  of  Moi-fyn,  called  also  Merlin  the  Wild, 
And  Taliesin,  the  chief  of  the  bards." 

"  The  three  golden-tongued  knights  of  the  court  of  Arthur :  — 
Gawain,  son  of  Gwyar,  , 

Drydvas,  son  of  Tryphin, 
And  Eliwlod,  son  of  Madag,  ap  Uther." 

'*  The  three  honorable  feasts  of  the  island  of  Britain  :  — 
The  feast  of  Caswallaun,  after  repelling  Julius  Caesar  from  this  islo; 
The  feast  of  Aurelius  Ambrosius,  after  he  had  conquered  the  Saxons ; 
And  the  feast  of  King  Arthur,  at  Carleon  upon  Usk." 

"  Guenever,  the  daughter  of  Laodegan  the  giant, 
Bad  when  little,  worse  when  great." 

Next  follow  some  moral  triads :  — 


*  THE    BRITOXS.  263 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Dremhidydd  sung, 
An  ancient  watchman  on  the  castle  walls  1 
A  refusal  is  better  than  a  promise  unperformed." 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Llenleawg  sung, 
The  noble  chief  wearing  the  golden  torques  ? 
The  grave  is  better  than  a  life  of  want." 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Garselit  sung, 
The  Irishman  whom  it  is  safe  to  follow  ? 
Sin  is  bad,  if  long  pursued." 

"  Hast  thou  heard  what  Avaon  sung, 
The  son  of  Taliesin,  of  the  recording  verse  1 
The  cheek  will  not  conceal  the  anguish  of  the  heart" 

"  Didst  thou  hear  what  Llywarch  sung. 
The  intrepid  and  brave  old  man  ? 
Greet  kindly,  though  there  be  no  acquaintance." 


'V-       Of  X3LM'^^ 


piriFiEsifr 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  LADY   OF   THE  FOUNTAIN. 

kynon's  adventure. 

King  Arthur  was  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk ;  and 
one  day  he  sat  in  liis  cliamber,  and  with  him  were 
Owain  the  son  of  Urien,  and  Kynon  the  son  of 
Clydno,  and  Kay  the  son  of  Kyner,  and  Guenever 
and  her  handmaidens  at  needlework  by  the  window. 
In  the  centre  of  the  chamber  King  Arthur  sat,  upon 
a  seat  of  green  rushes,*  over  which  was  spread  a 
covering  of  flame-colored  satin,  and  a  cushion  of  red 
satin  was  under  his  elbow. 

Then  Arthur  spoke.  "  If  I  thought  you  would 
not  disparage  me,"  said  he,  "  I  would  sleep  while 
I  wait  for  my  repast ;  and  you  can  entertain  one 
another  with  relating  tales,  and  can  obtain  a  flagon 
of  mead  and  some  meat  from  Kay."     And  the  king 

*  The  use  of  green  rushes  in  apartments  was  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  the  court  of  Caerleon  upon  Usk.  Our  ancestors  had  a  great  pre- 
dilection for  them,  and  they  seem  to  have  constituted  an  essential 
article,  not  only  of  comfort,  but  of  luxury.  The  custom  of  strewing 
the  floor  with  rushes  is  well  known  to  have  existed  in  England  dur- 
ing the  Middle  Ages,  and  also  in  France. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  265 

wGiit  to  sleep.  And  Kynon  the  son  of  Clydno 
asked  Kay  for  that  which  Arthur  had  promised 
tliem.  "  I  too  will  have  the  good  tale  which  he 
promised  me,"  said  Kay.  ^'  Nay,"  answered  Ky- 
non ;  "  fairer  will  it  be  for  thee  to  fuKil  Arthur's 
behest  in  the  first  place,  and  then  we  will  tell  thee 
the  best  tale  that  we  know."  So  Kay  went  to  the 
kitchen  and  to  the  mead-cellar,  and  returned,  bear- 
ing a  flagon  of  mead,  and  a  golden  goblet,  and  a 
handful  of  skewers,  upon  which  were  broiled  coUops 
of  meat.  Then  they  ate  the  collops,  and  began  to 
drink  the  mead.  "  Now,"  said  Kay,  "  it  is  time 
for  you  to  give  me  my  story."  ''  Kynon,"  said 
Owain,  ''  do  thou  pay  to  Kay  the  tale  that  is  his 
due."     ''  I  will  do  so,"  answered  Kynon. 

^'  I  was  the  only  son  of  my  mother  and  father,  and 
I  was  exceedingly  aspiring,  and  my  daring  was  very 
great.  I  thought  there  was  no  enterprise  in  the 
world  too  mighty  for  me  ;  and  after  1  had  acl.ieved 
all  the  adventures  that  were  in  my  own  country,  I 
equipped  myself,  and  set  forth  to  journey  through 
deserts  and  distant  regions.  And  at  length  it 
chanced  that  I  came  to  the  fairest  valley  in  the 
world,  wherein  were  trees  all  of  equal  growth  ;  and 
a  river  ran  through  the  valley,  and  a  path  v»"as  by 
the  side  of  the  river.  And  I  followed  the  path  until 
midday,  and  continued  my  journey  along  the  re- 
mainder of  the  valley  until  the  evening  ;  and  at  the 
extremity  of  a  plain  I  came  to  a  large  and  lustrous 
castle,  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a  torrent.     And  I 

23 


266  THE    MABIXOGEON. 

approached  the  castle,  and  there  I  beheld  two  youths 
with  yellow  curling  hair,  each  with  a  frontlet  of  gold 
upon  his  head,  and  clad  in  a  garment  of  yellow  sat- 
in ;  and  they  had  gold  clasps  upon  their  insteps. 
In  the  hand  of  each  of  them  was  an  ivory  how, 
strung  with  the  sinews  of  the  stag,  and  their  arrows 
and  their  shafts  were  of  the  bone  of  the  whale,  and 
were  winged  with  peacock's  feathers.  The  shafts 
also  had  golden  heads.  And  they  had  daggers  with 
blades  of  gold,  and  with  hilts  of  the  bone  of  the 
whale.     And  they  were  shooting  at  a  mark. 

"  And  a  little  away  from  them  I  saw  a  man  in  the 
prime  of  life,  with  his  beard  newly  shorn,  clad  in  a 
robe  and  mantle  of  yellow  satin,  and  round  the  top 
of  his  mantle  was  a  band  of  gold  lace.  On  his  feet 
were  shoes  of  variegated  leather,*  fastened  by  two 
bosses  of  gold.  When  I  saw  him  I  went  towards 
him  and  saluted  him ;  and  such  was  his  courtesy, 
that  he  no  sooner  received  my  greeting  than  he  re- 
turned it.  And  he  went  with  me  towards  the  castle. 
Now  there  were  no  dwellers  in  the  castle,  except 
those  who  were  in  one  hall.  And  there  I  saw  four 
and  twenty  damsels,  embroidering  satin  at  a  win- 
dow. And  this  I  tell  thee,  Kay,  that  the  least  fair 
of  them  was  fairer  than  the  fairest  maid  thou  didst 


*  Cordwal  is  the  word  in  the  original,  and  from  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  used  it  is  evidently  intended  for  the  French  Cordouan 
or  Cordovan  leather,  which  derived  its  name  from  Cordova,  where 
it  was  manufactured.  From  this  comes  also  our  English  word  cord- 
wainei'. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  267 

ever  behold  in  tlie  island  of  Britain  ;  and  the  least 
lovely  of  them  was  more  lovely  than  Guenever,  the 
wife  of  Arthur,  when  she  appeared  loveliest,  at  the 
feast  of  Easter.  They  rose  up  at  my  coming,  and 
six  of  them  took  my  horse,  and  divested  mo  of  my 
armor,  and  six  others  took  my  arms,  and  washed 
them  in  a  vessel  till  they  were  perfectly  bright. 
And  the  third  six  spread  cloths  upon  the  tables,  and 
prepared  meat.  And  the  fourth  six  took  off  my 
soiled  garments,  and  placed  others  upon  me,  name- 
ly, an  under  vest  and  a  doublet  of  fine  Ihien,  and  a 
robe  and  a  surcoat,  and  a  mantle  of  yellow  satin, 
with  a  broad  gold  band  upon  the  mantle.  And  they 
placed  cushions  both  beneath  and  around  me,  with 
coverings  of  red  linen.  And  I  sat  down.  Now  the 
six  maidens  who  had  taken  my  horse  unharnessed 
him  as  well  as  if  they  had  been  the  best  squires  in 
tlie  island  of*  Britain. 

"  Then  behold  they  brought  bowls  of  silver,  where- 
in was  water  to  wash,  and  towels  of  linen,  some  green 
and  some  white  ;  and  I  washed.  And  in  a  little 
while  the  man  sat  down  at  the  table.  And  I  sat 
next  to  him,  and  below  me  sat  all  the  maidens,  ex- 
cept those  who  waited  on  us.  And  the  table  was  of 
silver,  and  the  cloths  upon  the  table  were  of  linen. 
And  no  vessel  was  served  upon  the  table  that  was  not 
either  of  gold  or  of  silver  or  of  buffalo-horn.  And 
our  meat  was  brought  to  us.  And  verily,  Kay,  I 
saw  there  every  sort  of  meat  and  every  sort  of  liquor 
that  I  ever  saw  elsewhere  ;  but  the  meat  and  the 


268  THE    MABINOGEON. 

liquor  were  better  served  there  than  I  ever  saw 
them  in  any  other  place. 

"  Until  the  repast  was  half  over,  neither  tlie  man 
nor  any  one  of  the  damsels  spoke  a  single  word  to 
me  ;  but  when  the  man  perceived  tliat  it  would  be 
more  agreeable  for  me  to  converse  than  to  eat  any 
more,  he  began  to  inquire  of  me  who  I  was.  Then 
I  told  the  man  who  I  was,  and  what  was  the  cause 
of  my  journey,  and  said  that  I  was  seeking  whether 
any  one  was  superior  to  me,  or  whether  I  could  gain 
the  mastery  over  all.  The  man  looked  upon  me, 
and  he  smiled  and  said,  '  If  I  did  not  fear  to  do  thee 
a  mischief,  I  would  show  thee  that  which  thou  seek- 
est.'  Then  I  desired  him  to  speak  freely.  And  he 
said  :  *  Sleep  here  to-night,  and  in  the  morning  arise 
early,  and  take  the  road  upwards  through  the  val- 
ley, until  thou  readiest  the  wood,  A  little  way 
within  the  wood  thou  wilt  come  to  a  large  sheltered 
glade,  with  a  moiuid  in  the  centre.  And  thou  wilt 
see  a  black  man  of  great  stature  on  tlie  top  of  the 
mounct.  He  has  but  one  foot,  and  one  eye  in  the 
middle  of  liis  forehead.  He  is  the  wood-ward  of  that 
wood.  And  thou  wilt  see  a  thousand  wild  animals 
grazing  around  him.  Inquire  of  him  the  way  out 
of  the  glade,  and  he  will  reply  to  thee  bricliy,  and 
will  point  out  the  road  by  which  thou  shalt  lind 
that  which  tliou  art  in  quest  of.' 

''  And  long  seemed  that  night  to  me.  And  the 
next  morning  I  arose  and  equipped  myself,  and 
mounted  niy  b.orse,  and  j)roceeded  htraiglit  througli 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  269 

the  valley  to  the  wood,  and  at  length  I  arrived  at 
the  glade.  And  the  black  man  was  there,  sitting 
upon  the  top  of  the  mound ;  and  I  was  three  times 
more  astonished  at  the  number  of  wild  animals  that 
I  beheld,  than  the  man  had  said  I  should  be.  Then 
I  inquired  of  him  the  way,  and  he  asked  me  roughly 
whither  I  would  go.  And  when  I  had  told  him  who 
I  TV-as,  and  what  I  sought,  '  Take,'  said  he,  '  that 
path  that  leads  toward  the  head  of  the  glade,  and 
there  thou  wilt  find  an  open  space  like  to  a  large 
valley,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  a  tall  tree.  Under  this 
tree  is  a  fountain,  and  by  the  side  of  the  fountain  a 
marble  slab,- and  on  the  marble  slab  a  silver  bowl, 
attached  by  a  chain  of  silver,  that  it  may  not  be  car- 
ried away.  Take  the  bowl,  and  throw  a  bowlful  of 
water  on  the  slab.  And  if  thou  dost  not  find  trou- 
ble in  that  adventure,  thou  needest  not  seek  it  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  thy  life.' 

"  So  I  journeyed  on  until  I  reached  the  summit 
of  the  steep.  And  there  I  found  everything  as  the 
black  man  had  described  it  to  me.  And  I  went  up 
to  the  tree,  and  beneath  it  I  saw  the  fountain,  and 
by  its  side  the  marble  slab,  and  the  silver  bowl  fas- 
tened by  the  chain.  Then  I  took  the  bowl,  and  cast 
a  bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab.  And  immediately 
I  heard  a  mighty  peal  of  thunder,  so  that  heaven 
and  earth  seemed  to  tremble  with  its  fury.  And 
after  the  thunder  came  a  shower  ;  and  of  a  truth  I 
tell  thee,  Kay,  that  it  was  such  a  shower  as  neither 
man  nor  beast  could  endure  and  live.     I  turned  my 

23* 


270  THE    MABINOGEON. 

horse's  flank  toward  the  shower,  and  placed  the  beak 
of  my  shield  over  his  head  and  neck,  while  I  held 
the  npper  part  of  it  over  my  own  neck.  And  thus 
I  withstood  the  shower.  And  presently  the  sky  be- 
came clear,  and  with  that,  behold,  tlie  birds  lighted 
upon, the  tree,  and  sang.  And  truly,  Kay,  I  never 
heard  any  melody  equal  to  that,  either  before  or 
since.  And  when  I  Avas  most  charmed  with  listen- 
ing to  the  birds,  lo !  a  chiding  voice  was  heard  of 
one  approaching  me,  and  saying :  '  0  knight,  what 
has  brought  thee  hither  ?  What  evil  have  I  done 
to  thee,  that  thou  shouldst  act  towards  me  and  my 
possessions  as  thou  hast  this  day  ?  Dost  thou  not 
know  that  the  shower  to-day  has  left  in  my  domin- 
ions neither  man  nor  beast  alive  that  was  exposed 
to  it  ? '  And  thereupon,  behold,  a  knight  on  a  black 
horse  appeared,  clothed  in  jet-black  velvet,  and  with 
a  tabard  of  black  linen  about  him.  And  we  charged 
each  other,  and,  as  the  onset  was  furious,  it  was  not 
long  before  I  was  overthrown.  Then  the  knight 
passed  the  shaft  of  his  lance  through  the  bridle-rein 
of  my  horse,  and  rode  off  with  the  two  horses,  leav- 
ing me  where  I  was.  And  he  did  not  even  bestow, 
so  much  notice  upon  me  as  to  imprison  me,  nor  did 
he  despoil  me  of  my  arms.  So  I  returned  along  the 
road  by  which  I  had  come.  And  when  I  reached 
the  glade  where  the  black  man  Avas,  I  confess  to 
thee,  Kay,  it  is  a  marvel  that  I  did  not  melt  down 
into  a  liquid  pool,  through  the  shame  that  I  felt  at 
the  black  man's  derision.     And  that  night  I  came 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  271 

to  the  same  castle  wliere  I  had  spent  the  night  pre- 
ceding. And  I  was  more  agreeably  entertained 
that  night  than  I  had  been  the  night  before.  And 
I  conversed  freely  with  the  inmates  of  the  castle  ; 
and  none  of  them  alluded  to  my  expedition  to  the 
fon.ntain,  neither  did  I  mention  it  to  any.  And  I 
remained  there  that  night.  When  I  arose  on  the 
morrow,  I  found  ready  saddled  a  dark  bay  palfrey, 
with  nostrils  as  red  as  scarlet.  And  after  putting 
on  my  armor,  and  leaving  there  my  blessing,  I  re- 
turned to  my  own  court.  And  that  horse  I  still 
possess,  and  he  is  in  the  stable  yonder.  And  I  de- 
clare that  I  would  not  part  with  him  for  the  best 
palfrey  in  the  island  of  Britain. 

"Now,  of  a  truth,  Kay,  no  man  ever  before  con- 
fessed to  an  adventure  so  much  to  his  own  discredit ; 
and  verily  it  seems  strange  to  me  that  neither  before 
nor  since  have  I  heard  of  any  person  who  knew  of 
this  adventure,  and  that  the  subject  of  it  should 
exist  within  King  Arthur's  dominions  without  any 
other  person  lighting  upon  it." 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN,  CONTINUED. 

owain's  adventure.* 

"  Now,"  quoth  Owain,  "  would  it  not  be  well  to 
go  and  endeavor  to  discover  that  place  ? " 

"  By  the  hand  of  my  friend,"  said  Kay,  "  often 
dost  thou  utter  that  with  thy  tongue  which  thou 
wouldest  not  make  good  with  thy  deeds." 

"  In  very  truth,"  said  Guenever,  "  it  were  better 
thou  wert  hanged,  Kay,  than  to  use  such  uncour- 
teous  speech  towards  a  man  like  Owain." 

*  Amongst  all  the  characters  of  early  British  historj^,  none  is  more 
interesting,  or  occupies  a  more  conspicuous  place,  than  tlic  hero  of 
this  tale.  Urien,  his  father,  was  prince  of  Rheged,  a  district  compris- 
ing the  present  Cumberland  and  part  of  the  adjacent  country.  His 
valor,  and  the  consideration  in  which  he  was  held,  are  a  frequent 
theme  of  Bardic  song,  and  form  the  subject  of  several  very  spirited 
odes  by  Taliesin.  Among  the  Triads  there  is  one  relating  to  him  ; 
it  is  thus  translated  :  — 

"  Three  Knights  of  Battle  were  in  the  court  of  Arthur :  Cad^vT 
the  Earl  of  Cornwall,  Launcelot  du  Lac,  and  Owain  the  son  of  Urien. 
And  this  was  their  characteristic,  —  that  they  would  not  retreat  from 
battle,  netther  for  spear,  nor  for  aiTow,  nor  for  sword.  And  Arthur 
never  had  shame  in  battle  the  day  he  saw  their  faces  there.  And 
they  were  called  the  Knights  of  Battle." 


THE    LADT    OF    TIIK    FOUNTAIN.  273 

"  By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  good  lady,"  said 
Kay,  "  thy  praise  of  Owain  is  not  greater  than 
mine." 

With  that  Arthur  awoke,  and  asked  if  he  had  not 
been  sleeping  a  little. 

"  Yes,  lord,"  answered  Owain,  ''  thou  hast  slept 
awhile." 

''  Is  it  time  for  us  to  go  to  meat  ?  " 

''  It  is,  lord,"  said  Owain. 

Then  the  horn  for  washing  was  sounded,  and 
the  king  and  all  his  household  sat  down  to  eat. 
And  when  the  meal  was  ended,  Owain  withdrew  to 
his  lodging,  and  made  ready  his  horse  and  his 
arms. 

On  the  morrow  with  the  dawn  of  day  he  put  on 
his  armor,  and  mounted  his  charger,  and  travelled 
through  distant  lands,  and  over  desert  mountains. 
And  at  length  he  arrived  at  the  valley  which  Kynon 
had  described  to  him,  and  he  was  certain  that  it  was 
the  same  that  he  sought.  And  journeying  along 
the  valley,  by  the  side  of  the  river,  he  followed  its 
course  till  he  came  to  the  plain,  and  within  sight  of 
the  castle.  When  he  approached  the  castle,  he  saw 
the  youths  shooting  with  their  bows,  in  the  place 
where  Kynon  had  seen  them,  and  the  yellow  man, 
to  whom  the  castle  belonged,  standing  hard  by. 
And  no  sooner  liad  Owain  saluted  the  yellow  man, 
than  he  was  saluted  by  him  in  return. 

And  he  went  forward  towards  the  castle,  and 
there  he  saw  the  chamber ;  and  when  he  had  en- 


274  THE    MABINOGEON. 

tered  the  chamber,  he  beheld  the  maidens  working 
at  satin  embroidery,  in  chains  of  gold.  And  their 
beauty  and  their  comeliness  seemed  to  Owaui  far 
greater  than  Kynon  had  represented  to  him.  And 
they  arose  to  Avait  upon  Owain,  as  they  had  done  to 
Kynon.  And  the  meal  which  they  set  before  him 
gave  even  more  satisfaction  to  Owain  than  it  had 
done  to  Kynon. 

About  the  middle  of  the  repast  the  yellow  man 
asked  Owain  the  object  of  his  journey.  And  Owain 
made  it  known  to  him,  and  said,  "  I  am  in  quest  of 
the  knight  who  guards  the  fountain.''  Upon  this 
the  yellow  man  smiled,  and  said  that  he  was  as 
loath  to  point  out  that  adventure  to  him,  as  he  had 
been  to  Kynon.  However,  he  described  the  whole 
to  Owain,  and  they  retired  to  rest. 

The  next  morning  Owain  found  his  horse  made 
ready  for  him  by  the  damsels,  and  he  set  forward 
and  came  to  the  glade  where  the  black  man  was. 
And  the  stature  of  the  black  man  seemed  more 
wonderful  to  Owain  than  it  had  done  to  Kynon; 
and  Owain  asked  of  him  his  road,  and  he  showed  it 
to  him.  And  Owain  followed  the  road  till  he  came 
to  the  green  tree ;  and  he  beheld  the  fountain,  and 
the  slab  beside  the  fountain,  Avith  the  bowl  upon  it. 
And  Owain  took  the  bowl  and  threw  a  bowlful  of 
water  upon  the  slab.  And,  lo !  the  thunder  was 
heard,  and  after  the  thunder  came  the  shower, 
more  violent  than  Kynon  had  described,  and  after 
the  shower  the  sky  became  bright.     And  immedi- 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  275 

ately  the  birds  came  and  settled  upon  the  tree  and 
sang.  And  when  their  song  was  most  pleasing  to 
Owain,  he  beheld  a  knight  coming  towards  him 
through  the  valley ;  and  he  prepared  to  receive 
him,  and  encountered  him  violently.  Having 
broken  both  their  lances,  they  drew  their  swords 
and  fought  blade  to  blade.  Then  Owain  struck 
the  knight  a  blow  through  his  helmet,  head-piece, 
and  visor,  and  through  the  skin,  and  the  flesh,  and 
the  bone,  until  it  wounded  the  very  brain.  Then 
the  black  knight  felt  that  he  had  received  a  mortal 
wound,  upon  which  he  turned  his  horse's  head  and 
fled.  And  Owain  pursued  him,  and  followed  close 
upon  him,  altliough  he  was  not  near  enough  to 
strike  him  with  his  sword.  Then  Owain  descried  a 
vast  and  resplendent  castle ;  and  they  came  to  the 
castle  gate.  And  the  black  knight  Avas  allowed  to 
enter,  and  the  portcullis  was  let  fall  upon  Owain ; 
and  it  struck  his  horse  behind  the  saddle,  and  cut 
him  in  two,  and  carried  away  the  rowels  of  the 
spurs  that  were  upon  Owain's  heels.  And  the  port- 
cullis descended  to  the  floor.  And  the  rowels  of 
tlie  spurs  and  part  of  the  horse  were  without,  and 
Owain  with  the  other  part  of  the  horse  remained 
between  the  two  gates,  and  the  inner  gate  was 
closed,  so  that  Owain  coidd  not  go  thence ;  and 
Owain  was  in  a  perplexing  situation.  And  while 
lie  was  in  this  state,  he  could  see  through  an  aper- 
ture in  the  gate  a  street  facing  liim,  with  a  row  of 
houses  on  each  side.      And  he  beheld  a  maiden. 


276  THE   MABIJS^OGEON. 

with  yellow,  curling  hair,  and  a  frontlet  of  gold 
upon  her  head ;  and  she  was  clad  in  a  dress  of  yel- 
low satin,  and  on  her  feet  were  shoes  of  variegated 
leather.  And  she  approached  the  gate,  and  de- 
sired that  it  should  be  opened.  "  Heaven  know^s, 
lady,"  said  Owain,  "it  is  no  more  possible  for  me 
to  open  to  thee  from  hence,  than  it  is  for  thee  to  set 
me  free."  And  he  told  her  his  name,  and  who  lie 
was.  "  Truly,"  said  the  damsel,  "  it  is  very  sad 
that  thou  canst  not  be  released ;  and  every  woman 
ought  to  succor  thee,  for  I  know  there  is  no  one 
more  faithful  in  the  service  of  ladies  than  thou. 
Therefore,"  quoth  she,  ''  whatever  is  in  my  power 
to  do  for  thy  release,  I  w^ill  do  it.  Take  this  ring 
and  put  it  on  thy  finger,  with  the  stone  inside  thy 
hand,  and  close  thy  hand  upon  the  stone.  And  as 
long  as  thou  concealest  it,  it  will  conceal  thee. 
When  they  .come  forth  to  fetch  thee,  they  will  be 
much  grieved  that  they  cannot  find  thee.  And  I 
will  await  thee  on  the  horseblock  yonder,  and  thou 
wilt  be  able  to  see  me,  though  1  cannot  see  thee. 
Therefore  come  and  place  thy  hand  upon  my  shoul- 
der, that  I  may  know  that  thou  art  near  me.  And 
by  the  way  that  I  go  hence,  do  thou  accompany 
me." 

Then  the  maiden  went  away  from  Owain,  and  he 
did  all  that  she  had  told  him.  And  the  people  of 
the  castle  came  to  seek  Owain  to  put  him  to  death  ; 
and  when  they  found  nothing  but  the  half  of  his 
horse,  they  were  sorely  grioved. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  277 

And  Owaiii  vanished  from  among  them,  and  went 
to  the  maiden,  and  placed  his  hand  upon  h^r  shoul- 
der ;  whereupon  she  set  off,  and  Owain  followed  her, 
until  they  came  to  the  door  of  a  large  and  beautiful 
chamber,  and  the  maiden  opened  it,  and  they  went 
in.  And  Owain  looked  around  the  chamber,  and 
behold  there  was  not  a  single  nail  in  it  that  was  not 
painted  with  gorgeous  colors,  and  there  was  not  a 
single  panel  that  had  not  sundry  images  in  gold 
portrayed  upon  it. 

The  maiden  kindled  a  fire,  and  took  water  in  a 
silver  bowl,  and  gave  Owain  water  to  wash.  Then 
she  placed  before  him  a  silver  table,  inlaid  with 
gold ;  upon  which  was  a  cloth  of  yellow  linen,  and 
she  brought  him  food.  And,  of  a  truth,  Owain 
never  saw  any  kind  of  meat  that  was  not  there  in 
abundance,  but  it  was  better  cooked  there  than  he 
had  ever  found  it  in  any  other  place.  And  there  was 
not  one  vessel  from  which  he  was  served  that  was 
not  of  gold  or  of  silver.  And  Owain  eat  and  drank 
until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when,  lo !  they  heard  a 
mighty  clamor  in  the  castle,  and  Owain  asked  the 
maiden  what  it  was.  "  They  are  administering  ex- 
treme unction,"  said  she,  "  to  the  nobleman  who 
owns  the  castle."  And  she  prepared  a  couch  for 
Owain  which  was  meet  for  Arthur  himself,  and 
Owain  went  to  sleep. 

And  a  little  after  daybreak  he  heard  an  exceed- 
ing loud  clamor  and  wailing,  and  he  asked  the 
maiden  wliat  was  the  cause  of  it.     "  They  are  bear- 

24 


278  THE    MABINOGEON. 

ing  to  the  chiircli  the  body  of  the  nobleman  who 
owned  the  castle." 

And  Owain  rose  up,  and  clothed  himself,  and 
opened  a  Avindow  of  the  chamber,  and  looked  to- 
wards the  castle ;  and  he  could  see  neither  the  bounds 
nor  the  extent  of  the  hosts  that  filled  the  streets. 
And  they  were  fully  armed ;  and  a  vast  number  of 
women  were  with  them,  both  on  horseback  and  on 
foot,  and  all  the  ecclesiastics  in  the  city  singing. 
In  the  midst  of  the  throng  he  beheld  the  bier,  over 
which  was  a  veil  of  white  linen ;  and  wax  tapers 
were  burning  beside  and  around  it ;  and  none  that 
supported  the  bier  was  lower  in  rank  than  a  power- 
ful baron. 

Never  did  Owain  see  an  assemblage  so  gorgeous 
with  silk*  and  satin.  And,  following  the  train,  he 
beheld  a  lady  with  yellow  hair  falling  over  her 
shoulders,  and  stained  with  blood ;  and  about  her  a 
dress  of  yellow  satin,  which  was  torn.  Upon  her 
feet  were  shoes  of  variegated  leather.  And  it  was 
a  marvel  that  the  ends  of  her   fingers   were   not 

=^  Before  the  sixth  century,  all  the  silk  used  by  Europeans  had 
been  brought  to  them  by  the  Seres,  the  ancestors  of  the  present 
Boukharians,  wlience  it  derived  its  Latin  name  of  Serica.  In  551 
the  silkworm  was  brought  by  two  monks  to  Constantinople ;  but  the 
manufacture  of  silk  was  confined  to  the  Greek  empire  till  the  year 
1130,  when  Roger,  king  of  Sicily,  returning  from  a  crusade,  collected 
some  manufacturers  from  Athens  and  Corinth,  and  established  them 
at  Palermo,  whence  the  trade  vas  gradually  disseminated  over 
Italy.  The  varieties  of  silk  stujfs  known  at  this  time  were  velvet, 
satin  (which  was  called  samite)^  and  taffety  (called  ce.ndal  or  sendall), 
all  of  which  were  occasionally  stitched  with  gold  and  silver. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  279 

bruised  from  the  violence  with  which  she  smote  her 
hands  together.  Truly  she  would  have  been  tlie 
fairest  lady  Owain  ever  saw,  had  she  been  in  her 
usual  guise.  And  her  cry  was  louder  than  the 
shout  of  the  men  or  the  clamor  of  the  trumpets. 
No  sooner  had  he  beheld  the  lady  than  he  became 
inflamed  with  her  love,  so  that  it  took  entire  posses- 
sion of  him. 

Then  he  inquired  of  the  maiden  who  the  lady 
was.  ''  Heaven  knows,"  replied  the  maiden,  "  she 
is  the  fairest,  and  the  most  chaste,  and  the  most  lib- 
eral, and  the  most  noble  of  women.  She  is  my 
mistress,  and  she  is  called  the  Countess  of  the 
Fountain,  the  wife  of  him  whom  thou  didst  slay 
yesterday."  '^  Verily,"  said  Owain,  ''  she  is  the 
woman  that  I  love  best."  '^  Verily,"  said  the 
maiden,  "  she  shall  also  love  thee,  not  a  little." 

Then  the  maiden  prepared  a  repast  for  Owain, 
and  truly  he  thought  he  had  never  before  so  good  a 
meal,  nor  was  he  ever  so  well  served.  Then  she 
left  him,  and  went  towards  the  castle.  When  she 
came  there,  she  found  nothing  but  mourning  and 
sorrow  ;  and  the  Countess  in  her  chamber  could  not 
bear  the  sight  of  any  one  through  grief.  Luned, 
for  that  was  the  name  of  the  maiden,  saluted  her, 
but  the  Countess  answered  her  not.  And  the 
maiden  bent  down  towards  her,  and  said,  "  What 
aileth  thee,  that  thou  answerest  no  one  to-day?" 
''  Luned,"  said  the  Countess,  "  what  change  hath 
befallen  thee,  that  thou  hast  not  come  to  visit  me  in 


280  THE    MABINOGEON. 

my  grief.  It  T7as  wrong  in  thee,  and  I  so  sorely 
afflicted."  "  Truly,"  said  Luned,  "  I  thought  thy 
good  sense  was  greater  than  I  find  it  to  be.  Is  it 
well  for  thee  to  mourn  after  that  good  man,  or  for 
anything  else  that  thou  canst  not  have  ?  "  ''I  de- 
clare to  Heaven,"  said  the  Countess,  ''  that  in  the 
whole  world  there  is  not  a  man  equal  to  him." 
"  Not  so,"  said  Luned,  "  for  an  ugly  man  would 
be  as  good  as,  or  better  than  he."  "  I  declare  to 
Heaven,"  said  the  Countess,  "  that  were  it  not  re- 
pugnant to  me  to  put  to  death  one  Avliom  I  have 
brought  up,  I  would  have  thee  executed,  for  making 
such  a  comparison  to  me.  As  it  is,  I  will  banish 
thee."  "  I  am  glad,"  said  Luned,  "  that  thou  hast 
no  other  cause  to  do  so  than  that  I  would  have  been 
of  service  to  thee,  where  thou  didst  not  know  what 
was  to  thine  advantage.  Henceforth,  evil  betide 
whichever  of  us  shall  make  the  first  advance  to- 
wards reconciliation  to  the  other,  whether  I  should 
seek  an  invitation  from  thee,  or  thou  of  thine  own 
accord  shouldst  send  to  invite  me." 

With  that  Luned  went  forth  ;  and  the  Countess 
arose  and  followed  her  to  the  door  of  the  chamber, 
and  began  coughing  loudly.  And  when  Luned 
looked  back,  the  Countess  beckoned  to  her,  and  she 
returned  to  the  Countess.  "  In  truth,"  said  the 
Countess,  "  evil  is  thy  disposition  ;  but  if  thou 
knowest  what  is  to  my  advantage,  declare  it  to  me." 
''  I  will  do  so,"  said  she. 

"  Thou  knowest  that,  except  by  warfare  and  arms. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  281 

it  is  impossible  for  thee  to  preserve  thy  possessions  ; 
delay  not,  therefore,  to  seek  some  one  who  can  de- 
fend them."  "  And  how  can  I  do  that  ?  "  said  the 
Countess.  "  I  will  tell  thee,"  said  Luned  ;  "  unless 
thou  canst  defend  tlie  fountain,  thou  canst  not 
maintain  thy  dominions ;  and  no  one  can  defend  the 
fountain  except  it  be  a  knight  of  Arthur's  household. 
I  will  go  to  Arthur's  court,  and  ill  betide  me  if  I  re- 
turn not  thence  with  a  warrior  who  can  guard  the 
fountain  as  well  as,  or  even  better  than  he  who 
defended  it  formerly."  "  That  will  be  hard  to  per- 
form," said  the  Countess.  ''  Go,  however,  and  make 
proof  of  that  which  thou  hast  promised." 

Luned  set  out  under  the  pretence  of  going  to  Ar- 
thur's court ;  but  she  went  back  to  the  mansion 
where  she  had  left  Owain,  and  she  tarried  there 
as  long  as  it  might  have  taken  her  to  travel  to  the 
court  of  King  Arthur  and  back.  And  at  the  end  of 
that  time  she  apparelled  herself,  and  went  to  visit 
the  Countess.  And  the  Countess  was  much  rejoiced 
when  she  saw  her,  and  inquired  what  news  she 
brought  from  the  court.  "  I  bring  thee  the  best  of 
news,"  said  Luned,  "  for  I  have  compassed  the  ob- 
ject of  my  mission.  When  wilt  thou  that  I  should 
present  to  thee  the  chieftain  who  has  come  with  me 
hither?  "  "  Bring  him  here  to  visit  me  to-morrow," 
said  the  Countess,  "  and  I  will  cause  the  town  to  be 
assembled  by  that  time." 

And  Luned  returned  home.  And  the  next  day, 
at  noon,  Owain  arrayed  himself  in  a  coat  and  a  sur- 


282  THE   MABINOGEON. 

coat,  and  a  mantle  of  yellow  satin,  upon  which  was 
a  broad  band  of  gold  lace ;  and  on  his  feet  were  high 
shoes  of  variegated  leather,  which  were  fastened  by 
golden  clasps,  in  the  form  of  lions.  And  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  chamber  of  the  Countess. 

Right  glad  was  the  Countess  of  their  coming. 
And  she  gazed  steadfastly  upon  Owain,  and  said-, 
*'  Luned,  this  knight  has  not  the  look  of  a  traveller." 
"  What  harm  is  there  in  that,  lady  ?  "  said  Luned. 
^'  I  am  certain,"  said  the  Countess,  "  that  no  other 
man  than  this  chased  the  soul  from  the  body  of  my 
lord."  "  So  much  the  better  for  thee,  lady,"  said 
Luned,  "  for  had  he  not  been  stronger  than  thy 
lord,  he  could  not  have  deprived  him  of  life.  There 
is  no  remedy  for  that  which  is  past,  be  it  as  it  may." 
"  Gro  back  to  thine  abode,"  said  the  Countess,  "and 
I  will  take  counsel." 

The  next  day  the  Countess  caused  all  her  subjects 
to  assemble,  and  showed  them  that  her  earldom  was 
left  defenceless,  and  that  it  could  not  be  protected 
but  with  horse  and  arms,  and  military  skill.  "  There- 
fore," said  she,  ''this  is  what  I  offer  for  your  choice: 
either  let  one  of  you  take  me,  or  give  your  consent 
for  me  to  take  a  husband  from  elsewhere,  to  defend 
my  dominions." 

So  they  came  to  the  determination  that  it  was 
better  that  she  should  have  permission  to  marry 
some  one  from  elsewhere ;  and  thereupon  she  sent 
for  the  bishops  and  archbishops,  to  celebrate  her 
nuptials  with  Owain.  And  the  men  of  the  earldom 
did  Owain  liomage. 


|BlIfli^^**S'| 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  283 

And  Owain  defended  the  fountain  with  lance  and 
sword.  And  this  is  the  manner  in  which  he  de- 
fended it.  Whensoever  a  knight  came  there,  he 
overthrew  him,  and  sold  him  for  his  full  worth. 
And  what  he  thus  gained  he  divided  among  his 
barons  and  his  knights,  and  no  man  in  the  whole 
world  could  be  more  beloved  than  he  was  by  his 
subjects.  And  it  was  thus  for  the  space  of  three 
years.* 

*  There  exists  an  ancient  poem,  printed  among  those  of  Taliesin, 
called  the  Elegy  of  Owain  ap  Urien,  and  containing  several  very 
beautiful  and  spirited  passages.     It  commences  : 

*'  The  soul  of  Owain  ap  Urien, 
May  its  Lord  consider  its  exigencies  ! 
Reged's  chief  the  green  turf  covers/' 

In  the  course  of  this  Elegy,  the  bard,  alluding  to  the  incessant  war- 
fare with  which  this  chieftain  harassed  his  Saxon  foes,  exclaims  : 

*'  Could  England  sleep  with  the  light  upon  her  eyes  ! " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

the  lady  of  the  fountain,  continued 

gawain's  adventure. 

It  befell  that,  as  Gawain  went  forth  one  day  with 
King  Arthur,  he  perceived  him  to  be  very  sad  and 
sorrowful.  And  Gawain  was  much  grieved  to  see 
Arthur  in  this  state,  and  he  questioned  him,  saying, 
"  0  my  lord,  what  has  befallen  thee  ?  "  "  In  sooth, 
Gawain,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  am  grieved  concerning 
Owain,  whom  I  have  lost  these  three  years  ;  and  I 
shall  certainly  die  if  the  fourth  year  pass  without 
my  seeing  him.  Now  I  am  sure  that  it  is  through 
the  tale  which  Kynon,  the  son  of  Clydno,  related, 
that  I  have  lost  Owain."  "There  is  no  need  for 
thee,"  said  Gawain,  "to  summon  to  arms  thy  whole 
dominions  on  this  account,  for  thou  thyself,  and  the 
men  of  thy  household,  will  be  able  to  avenge  Owain 
if  he  be  slain,  or  to  set  him  free  if  he  be  in  prison  ; 
and,  if  alive,  to  bring  him  back  with  thee."  And  it 
was  settled  according  to  what  Gawain  had  said. 

Then  Arthur  and  the  men  of  his  household  pre- 
pared to  go  and  seek  Owain.     And  Kynon,  the  son 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    FOUNTAIN.  285 

of  Clydiio,  acted  as  their  guide.  And  Arthur  came 
to  the  castle  where  Kyiioii  had  been  before.  And 
when  he  came  there,  the  youths  were  shooting  in 
the  same  place,  and  the  yellow  man  was  standing 
hard  by.  When  the  yellow  man  saw  Arthur,  he 
greeted  him,  and  invited  him  to  the  castle.  And 
Arthur  accepted  his  invitation,  and  they  entered 
the  castle  together.  And  great  as  was  the  number 
of  his  retinue,  their  presence  was  scarcely  observed 
in  the  castle,  so  vast  was  its  extent.  And  the  maid- 
ens rose  up  to  wait  on  them.  And  the  service  of 
the  maidens  appeared  to  them  all  to  excel  any  at- 
tendance they  had  ever  met  with ;  and  even  the 
pages,  who  had  charge  of  the  horses,  were  no  worse 
served  that  night  than  Arthur  himself  would  have 
been  in  his  own  palace. 

The  next  morning  Arthur  set  out  thence,  with 
Kynon  for  his  guide,  and  came  to  the  place  where 
the  black  man  was.  And  the  stature  of  the  black 
man  was  more  surprising  to  Arthur  than  it  had 
been  represented  to  him.  And  they  came  to  the 
top  of  the  wooded  steep,  and  traversed  the  valley, 
till  they  reached  the  green  tree,  where  they  saw  the 
fountain  and  the  bowl  and  the  slab.  And  upon  that 
Kay  came  to  Arthur,  and  spoke  to  him.  "  My  lord," 
said  he,  "  I  know  the  meaning  of  all  this,  and  my 
request  is  that  thou  wilt  permit  me  to  throw  the 
water  on  the  slab,  and  to  receive  the  first  adventure 
that  may  befall."     And  Arthur  gave  him  leave. 

Then  Kay  threw  a  bowlful  of  water  upon  the  slab. 


286  THK   MABINOaEON. 

and  immediately  there  came  the  thunder,  and  after 
the  thunder  the  shower.  And  such  a  thunder-storm 
tliey  had  never  known  before.  After  the  shower 
had  ceased,  the  sky  became  clear,  and  on  looking  at 
the  tree,  they  beheld  it  completely  leafless.  Then 
the  birds  descended  upon  the  tree.  And  the  song 
of  the  birds  was  far  sweeter  than  any  strain  they 
had  ever  heard  before.  Then  they  beheld  a  knight, 
on  a  coal-black  horse,  clothed  in  black  satin,  coming 
rapidly  towards  them.  And  Kay  met  him  and  en- 
countered him,  and  it  was  not  long  before  Kay  was 
overthrown.  And  the  knight  withdrew.  And  Ar- 
thur and  his  host  encamped  for  the  night. 

And  when  they  arose  in  the  morning,  they  per- 
ceived the  signal  of  combat  upon  the  lance  of  the 
knight.  Then,  one  by  one,  all  the  household  of 
Arthur  went  forth  to  combat  the  knight,  until  there 
was  not  one  that  was  not  overthrown  by  him,  except 
Arthur  and  Gawain.  And  Arthur  armed  himself 
to  encounter  the  knight.  ''  0  my  lord,"  said  Ga- 
wain, "  permit  me  to  fight  with  him  first."  And 
Arthur  permitted  him.  And  he  went  forth  to  meet 
the  knight,  having  over  himself  and  his  horse  a  satin 
robe  of  honor,  which  had  been  sent  him  by  the 
daiighter  of  the  Earl  of  Rhangyr,  and  in  this  dress 
he  was  not  known  by  any  of  the  host.  And  they 
charged  each  other,  and  fought  all  that  day  until 
the  evening.  And  neither  of  them  w^as  able  to  un- 
horse the  other.  And  so  it  was  the  next  day  ;  they 
broke  their  laivces  in  tlie  shock,  but  neither  of  them 
could  obtain  tlie  ma^'terv. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIX.  287 

And  the  third  day  they  fought  with  exceeding 
strong  lances.  And  they  were  incensed  with  rage, 
and  fought  furiously,  even  until  noon.  And  they 
gave  each  other  such  a  shock,  that  the  girths  of 
their  horses  were  broken,  so  that  they  fell  over  their 
horses'  cruppers  to  the  ground.  And  they  rose  up 
speedily  and  drew  their  swords,  and  resumed  the 
combat.  And  all  they  that  witnessed  their  encoun- 
ter felt  assured  that  they  had  never  before  seen  two 
men  so  valiant  or  so  powerful.  And  had  it  been 
midnight,  it  would  have  been  light,  from  the  fire 
that  flashed  from  their  weapons.  And  the  knight 
gave  Gawain  a  blow  that  turned  his  helmet  from  off 
his  face,  so  that  the  knight  saw  that  it  was  Gawain. 
Then  Owain  said,  "  My  lord  Gawain,  I  did  not 
know  thee  for  my  cousin,  owing  to  the  robe  of  honor 
that  enveloped  thee ;  take  my  sword  and  my  arms." 
Said  Gawain,  "  Thou,  Owain,  art  the  victor ;  take 
thou  my  sword."  And  with  that  Arthur  saw  that 
they  were  conversing,  and  advanced  toward  them. 
"  My  lord  Arthur,"  said  Gawain,  "  here  is  Owain, 
who  has  vanquished  me,  and  will  not  take  my  arms." 
"  My  lord,"  said  Owain,  "  it  is  he  that  has  van- 
quished me,  and  he  will  not  take  my  sword." 
"  Give  me  your  swords,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  then 
neither  of  you  has  vanquished  the  other."  Then 
Owain  put  his  arms  round  Arthur's  neck,  and  they 
embraced.  And  all  the  host  hurried  forward  to  see 
Owain,  and  to  embrace  him.  And  there  was  nigh 
being  a  loss  of  life,  so  great  was  the  press. 


288  THE    MABINOGEON. 

And  they  retired  that  night,  and  the  next  day 
Arthur  prepared  to  depart.  '  "  My  lord,"  said 
Owain,  "  this  is  not  well  of  thee.  For  I  have 
been  absent  from  thee  these  three  years,  and  during 
all  that  time,  up  to  this  very  day,  I  have  been  pre- 
paring a  banquet  for  thee,  knowing  that  thou 
wouldst  come  to  seek  me.  Tarry  with  me  there- 
fore, until  thou  and  thy  attendants  have  recov- 
ered the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  have  been 
anointed." 

And  they  all  proceeded  to  the  castle  of  the  Coun- 
tess of  the  Fountain,  and  the  banquet  which  had 
been  three  years  preparing  was  consumed  in  three 
months.  Never  had  they  a  more  delicious  or  agree- 
able banquet.  And  Arthur  prepared  to  depart. 
Then  he  sent  an  embassy  to  the  Countess  to  be- 
seech her  to  permit  Owain  to  go  with  him,  for  the 
space  of  three  months,  that  he  might  show  him  to 
the  nobles  and  the  fair  dames  of  the  island  of  Brit- 
ain. And  the  Countess  gave  her  consent,  although 
it  was  very  painful  to  her.  So  Owain  came  with 
Arthur  to  the  island  of  Britain.  And  when  he  was 
once  more  amongst  his  kindred  and  friends,  he  re- 
mained three  years,  instead  of  three  months,  with 
them. 

THE   ADVENTURE   OF   THE   LION. 

And  as  Owain  one  day  sat  at  meat,  in  the  city  of 
Caerleon  upon  Usk,  behold  a  damsel  entered  the  hall. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  289 

upon  a  bay  horse,*  with  a  curling  mane,  and  covered 
with  foam ;  and  the  bridle,  and  as  much  as  w^as  seen 
of  the  saddle,  were  of  gold.  And  the  damsel  was 
arra3^ed  in  a  dress  of  yellow  satin.  And  she  came 
up  to  Owain,  and  took  the  ring  from  off  his  hand. 
"  Tlius,"  said  she,  "  shall  be  treated  the  deceiver, 
the  traitor,  the  faithless,  the  disgraced,  and  the 
beardless."  And  she  turned  her  horse's  head  and 
departed.. 

Then  his  adventure  came  to  Owain' s  remem- 
brance, and  he  was  sorrowful.  And  having  fin- 
ished eating,  he  went  to  his  own  abode,  and  made 
preparations  that  night.  And  the  next  day  he 
arose,  but  did  not  go  to  the  court,  nor  did  he  re- 
turn to  the  Coimtess  of  the  Fountain,  but  wandered 


^  The  custom  of  riding  into  a  hall  while  the  lord  and  his  guests 
sat  at  meat,  might  be  illustrated  by  numerous  passages  of  ancient  ro- 
mance and  history.  But  a  quotation  from  Chaucer's  beautiful  and 
half-told  tale  of  Cambuscan  is  sufficient :  — 

"  And  so  befell  that  after  the  thridde  cours, 
While  that  this  king  sat  thus  in  his  nobley, 
Herking  his  minstralles  thir  thinges  play, 
Befome  him  at  his  bord  deliciously, 
In  at  the  halle  door  all  sodenly 
Ther  came  a  knight  upon  a  stede  of  bras, 
And  in  his  bond  a  brod  mirrour  of  glas ; 
Upon  his  thombe  he  had  of  gold  a  ring, 
And  by  his  side  a  naked  sword  hanging ; 
And  up  he  rideth  to  the  highe  bord. 
In  all  the  halle  ne  was  ther  spoke  a  word, 
For  mervaille  of  this  knight ;  him  to  behold 
Full  besily  tliey  waiten,  young  and  old." 


290  THE    MABINOGEON. 

to  the  distant  parts  of  the  earth  and  to  uncultivated 
mountains.  And  he  remained  there  until  all  his 
apparel  was  worn  out,  and  his 'body  was  wasted 
away,  and  his  hair  was  grown  long.  And  he  went 
about  with  the  wild  beasts,  and  fed  with  them,  until 
they  became  familiar  with  him.  But  at  length  he 
became  so  weak  that  he  could  no  longer  bear  them 
company.  Then  he  descended  from  the  mountains 
to  the  valley,  and  came  to  a  park,  that  was  the  fair- 
est in  the  world,  and  belonged  to  a  charitable  lady. 

One  day  the  lady  and  her  attendants  went  forth 
to  walk  by  a  lake  that  was  in  the  middle  of  the 
park.  And  they  saw  the  form  of  a  man,  lying  as  if 
dead.  And  they  were  terrified.  Nevertheless  they 
went  near  him,  and  touched  him,  and  they  saw  that 
there  was  life  in  him.  And  the  lady  returned  to 
the  castle,  and  took  a  flask  full  of  precious  ointment 
and  gave  it  to  one  of  her  maidens.  "  Go  with  this," 
said  she,  "  and  take  with  thee  yonder  horse,  and 
clothing,  and  place  them  near  the  man  we  saw  just 
now ;  and  anoint  him  with  this  balsam  near  his 
heart;  and  if  there  is  life  in  him,  he  will  revive, 
through  the  efficiency  of  this  balsam.  Then  watch 
what  he  will  do." 

And  the  maiden  departed  from  her,  and  went  and 
poured  of  the  balsam  upon  Owain,  and  left  the 
horse  and  the  garments  hard  by,  and  went  a  little 
way  off  and  hid  herself  to  watch  him.  In  a  short 
time,  she  saw  him  begin  to  move  ;  and  he  rose  up, 
and  looked  at  his  person,  and  became  ashamed  of 


[UHIVBESITT] 


Combat  of  the  Lion  and  Serpent,  in  which  Sir  Owaiu  takes  part  witli  the  Lion.  Page  2'Jl. 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  291 

the  unseemliness  of  his  appearance.  .Then  he  per- 
ceived the  horse  and  the  garments  that  were  near 
him.  And  he  clothed  himself,  and  with  difficulty 
mounted  the  horse.  Then  the  damsel  discovered 
herself  to  him,  and  saluted  him.  And  he  and  the 
maiden  proceeded  to  the  castle,  and  the  maiden 
conducted  him  to  a  pleasant  chamber,  and  kindled 
a  fire,  and  left  him. 

And  he  stayed  at  the  castle  three  months,  till  he 
was  restored  to  his  former  guise,  and  became  even 
more  comely  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  And 
Owain  rendered  signal  service  to  the  lady,  in  a  con- 
troversy with  a  powerful  neighbor,  so  that  he  made 
ample  requital  to  her  for  her  hospitality;  and  he 
took  his  departure. 

And  as  he  journeyed  he  heard  a  loud  yelling  in  a 
wood.  And  it  was  repeated  a  second  and  a  tliird 
time.  And  Owain  went  towards  the  spot,  and  be- 
held a  huge  craggy  mound,  in  the  middle  of  the 
wood,  on  the  side  of  which  was  a  gray  rock.'  And 
there  was  a  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  a  serpent  was 
within  the  cleft.  And  near  the  rock  stood  a  black 
lion,  and  every  time  the  lion  sought  to  go  thence 
the  serpent  darted  towards  him  to  attack  him.  And 
Owain  unsheathed  his  sword,  and  drew  near  to  the 
rock ;  and  as  the  serpent  sprung  out  he  struck  him 
with  his  sword  and  cut  him  in  two.  And  he  dried 
his  sword,  and  went  on  his  way  as  before,  ^ut  be- 
hold the  lion  followed  him,  and  played  about  him, 
as  though  it  had  been  a  greyhound  that  he  had 
reared. 


292  THE    MABINOGEON. 

■r 

They  proceeded  tlius  throughout  the  day,  until 
the  evening.  And  when  it  was  time  for  0 wain  to 
take  his  rest,  he  dismounted,  and  turned  his  horse 
loose  in  a  flat  and  wooded  meadow.  And  he  struck 
fire,  and  when  the  fire  was  kindled,  the  lion  brought 
him  fuel  enough  to  last  for  three  nights.  And  the 
lion  disappeared.  And  presently  the  lion  returned, 
bearing  a  fine  large  roebuck.  And  he  threw  it 
down  before  Owain,  who  went  towards  the  fire 
with  it. 

And  Owain  took  the  roebuck,  and  skinned  it,  and 
placed  collops  of  its  flesh  upon  skewers  round  the 
fire.  The  rest  of  the  buck  he  gave  to  the  lion  to 
devour.  While  he  was  so  employed,  he  heard  a 
deep  groan  near  him,  and  a  second,  and  a  third. 
And  the  place  whence  the  groans  proceeded  was  a 
cave  in  the  rock  ;  and  Owain  went  near,  and  called 
out  to  know  who  it  was  that  groaned  so  piteously. 
And  a  voice  answered,  "  I  am  Luned,  the  hand- 
maiden of  the  Countess  of  the  Fountain."  "  And 
what  dost  thou  here  ?  "  said  he.  "  I  am  impris- 
oned," said  slie,  "  on  account  of  the  knight  who 
came  from  Arthur's  court,  and  married  the  Count- 
ess. And  he  staid  a  short  time  with  her,  but  he 
afterwards  departed  for  the  court  of  Arthur,  and  has 
not  returned  since.  And  two  of  the  Countess's 
pages  traduced  him,  and  called  him  a  deceiver. 
And  b^pause  I  said  I  would  vouch  for  it  he  would 
come  before  long  and  maintain  his  cause  against 
both  of  them,  they  imprisoned  me  in  this  cave,  and 


THE  LADY  OF  THE  FOUNTAIN.  293 

said  that  1  should  be  put  to  death,  unless  he  came 
to  deliver  me,  by  a  certain  day ;  and  that  is  no  fur- 
ther off  than  to-morrow,  and  I  have  no  one  to  send 
to  seek  him  for  me.  His  name  is  Owain,  the  son  of 
Urien."  "  And  art  thou  certain  that  if  that  knight 
knew  all  this,  he  would  come  to  thy  rescue  ?  "  "I 
am  most  certain  of  it,"  said  she. 

When  the  collops  were  cooked,  Owain  divided 
them  into  two  parts,  between  himself  and  the 
maiden,  and  then  Owain  laid  himself  down  to  sleep; 
and  never  did  sentinel  keep  stricter  watch  over  his 
lord,  than  the  lion  that  night  over  Owain. 

And  the  next  day  there  came  the  two  pages  with 
a  great  troop  of  attendants  to  take  Luned  from  her 
cell,  and  put  her  to  death.  And  Owain  asked  them 
what  charge  they  had  against  her.  And  tliey  told 
him  of  the  compact  that  was  between  them ;  as  the 
maiden  had  done  the  night  before.  "  And,"  said 
they,  "  Owain  has  failed  her,  therefore  we  are  tak- 
ing her  to  be  burnt."  "  Truly,"  said  Owain,  ''  he 
is  a  good  knight,  and  if  he  knew  that  the  maiden 
was  in  such  peril,  I  marvel  that  he  came  not  to  her 
rescue.  But  if  you  will  accept  me  in  his  stead,  I 
will  do  battle  with  you."  '^  We  will,"  said  the 
youths. 

And  they  attacked  Owain,  and  he  was  hard  beset 
by  them.  And  with  that,  the  lion  came  to  Owain' s 
assistance,  and  they  two  got  the  better  of  the  young 
men.  And  they  said  to  him,  "  Chieftain,  it  was  not 
agreed  that  we  should  fight  save  with  thyself  alone, 

25* 


294  THE    MABINOGEON. 

and  it  is  harder  for  us  to  contend  with  yonder  ani- 
mal than  with  thee."  And  Owain  put  the  lion  in 
the  place  where  Luned  had  been  imprisoned,  and 
blocked  up  the  door  with  stones.  And  he  went  to 
fight  with  the  young  men  as  before.  But  Owain 
had  not  his  usual  strength,  and  the  two  youths 
pressed  hard  upon  him.  And  the  lion  roared  inces- 
santly at  seeing  Owain  in  trouble.  And  he  burst 
through  the  wall,  until  he  found  a  way  out,  and 
rushed  upon  the  young  men  and  instantly  slew 
them.     So  Luned  was  saved  from  being  burned. 

Then  Owain  returned  with  Luned  to  the  castle  of 
the  Lady  of  the  Fountain.  And  when  he  went 
thence,  he  took  the  Countess  with  him  to  Arthur's 
court,  and  she  was  his  wife  as  long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER    V. 

GERAINT,   THE  SON  OF  EEBIN. 

Arthur  was  accustomed  to  hold  his  court  at 
Caerleon  upon  Usk.  And  there  he  held  it  seven 
Easters  and  five  Christmases.  And  once  upon  a 
time  he  held  his  court  there  at  Whitsuntide.  For 
Caerleon  was  the  place  most  easy  of  access  in  his 
dominions,  both  by  sea  and  by  land.  And  there 
were  assembled  nine  crowned  kings,  who  were  his 
tributaries,  and  likewise  earls  and  barons.  For 
they  were  his  invited  guests  at  all  the  high  festivals, 
unless  they  were  prevented  by  any  great  hinderance. 
And  when  he  was  at  Caerleon  holding  his  court, 
thirteen  churches  were  set  apart  for  mass.  And 
thus  they  were  appointed :  one  church  for  Arthur 
and  his  kings,  and  his  guests ;  and  the  second  for 
Guenever  and  her  ladies ;  and  the  third  for  the 
steward  of  the  household  and  the  suitors ;  and  the 
fourth  for  the  Franks  and  the  other  officers;  and 
the  other  nine  churches  were  for  the  nine  masters 
of  the  household,  and  chiefly  for  Gawain,  for  he, 
from  the  eminence  of  his  warlike  fame,  and  from 


296  THE    MABINOGEON. 

the  nobleness  of  his  birth,  was  the  most  exalted  of 
the  nine.  And  there  was  no  other  arrangement 
respecting  the  churches  than  that  which  we  have 
here  mentioned. 

And  on  Wliit-Tuesdaj,  as  the  king  sat  at  the 
banquet,  lo,  there  entered  a  tall,  fair-lieaded  youth, 
clad  in  a  coat  and  surcoat  of  satin,  and  a  golden- 
hilted  sword  about  his  neck,  and  low  shoes  of 
leather  upon*  his  feet.  And  he  came  and  stood 
before  Arthur.  ''  Hail  to  thee,  lord,"  said  he. 
''  Heaven  prosper  thee,"  he  answered,  "  and  be 
thou  welcome."  "  Dost  thou  bring  any  new  ti- 
dings ?"  "  I  do,  lord,"  he  said.  "  1  am  one  of  thy 
foresters,  lord,  in  the  forest  of  Dean,  and  my  name 
is  Madoc,  son  of  Turgadarn.  In  the  forest  I  saw  a 
stag,  the  like  of  which  beheld  I  never  yet."  "  Wliat 
is  there  about  him,"  asked  Arthur,  "  that  thou  never 
yet  didst  see  his  like  ? "  "  He  is  of  pure  wliite, 
lord,  and  he  does  not  herd  with  any  other  animal, 
through  stateliness  and  pride,  so  royal  is  his  bear- 
ing. And  I  come  to  seek  thy  counsel,  lord,  and  to 
know  thy  will  concerning  him."  "  It  seems  best  to 
me,"  said  Arthur,  "  to  go  and  hunt  him  to-morrow 
at  break  of  day,  and  to  cause  general  notice  thereof 
to  be  given  to-night,  in  all  quarters  of  the  court." 
And  Arryfuerys  was  Arthur's  chief  huntsman,  and 
Arelivri  his  chief  page.  And  all  received  notice ; 
and  thus  it  was  arranged. 

Then  Guenever  said  to  Arthur,  "  Wilt  thou  per- 
mit me,  lord,  to  go  to-morrow  to  see  and  hear  tlie 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  297 

hunt  of  tlio  stag  of  which  the  young  man  spoke  ?  " 
"  I  will  gladly,"  ^id  Arthur.  And  Gawain  said  to 
Arthur,  "  Lord,  if  it  seem  w^ell  to  thee,  permit  that 
into  whose  hunt  soever  the  stag  shall  come,  that 
one,  he  he  a  knight  or  one  on  foot,  may  cut  off  his 
head,  and  give  it  to  whom  he  pleases,  whether  to  his 
own  lady-love,  or  to  the  lady  of  his  friend."  "  I 
grant  it  gladly,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  let  the  steward 
of  the  household  he  chastised,  if  all  things  are  not 
ready  to-morrow  for  the  chase." 

And  they  passed  the  night  with  songs,  and  diver- 
sions, and  discourse,  and  ample  entertainment. 
And  when  it  was  time  for  them  all  to  go  to  sleep, 
they  went.  And  when  the  next  day  came,  they 
arose.  And  Arthur  called  the  attendants  who 
guarded  his  couch.  And  there  were  four  pages 
whose  names  were  Cadyrnerth,  the  son  of  Gandwy, 
and  Amhreu,  the  son  of  Bedwor,  and  Amhar,  the 
son  of  Arthur,  and  Goreu,  the  son  of  Custennin. 
And  these  men  came  to  Arthur  and  saluted  him, 
and  arrayed  him  in  his  garments.  And  Arthur 
wondered  that  Guenever  did  not  awake,  and  the 
attendants  wished  to  awaken  her.  "  Disturb  her 
not,"  said  Arthur,  "  for  she  had  rather  sleep  than 
go  to  see  the  hunting." 

Then  Arthur  went  forth,  and  he  heard  two  horns 
sounding,  one  from  near  the  lodging  of  the  chief 
huntsman,  and  the  other  from  near  that  of  the  chief 
page.  And  the  whole  assembly  of  the  multitudes 
came  to  Arthur,  and  they  took  the  road  to  the 
forest. 


298  THE   MABINOGEON. 

And  after  Arthur  had  gone  forth  from  the  palace, 
Giienever  awoke,  and  called  to  lier  maidens,  and 
apparelled  herself.  ^'Maidens,"  said  she,  "I  had 
leave  last  night  to  go  and  see  the  hunt.  Go  one  of 
you  to  the  stable,  and  order  hither  a  horse  such  as 
a  woman  may  ride."  And  one  of  them  w^ent,  and 
she  found  but  two  horses  in  the  stable ;  and  Guene- 
ver  and  one  of  her  maidens  mounted  them,  and 
went  through  the  Usk,  and  followed  the  track  of 
the  men  and  the  horses.  And  as  they  rode  thus, 
they  heard  a  loud  and  rushing  sound ;  and  they 
looked  behind  them,  and  beheld  a  knight  upon  a 
hunter  foal  of  mighty  size.  And  the  rider  was  a 
fair-haired  youth,  bare-legged,  and  of  princely  mien ; 
and  a  golden-hilted  sword  was  at  his  side,  and  a 
robe  and  a  surcoat  of  satin  were  upon  him,  and  two 
low  shoes  of  leather  upon  his  feet ;  and  around  him 
was  a  scarf  of  blue  purple,  at  each  corner  of  which 
was  a  golden  apple.  And  his  horse  stepped  stately, 
and  swift,  and  proud ;  and  he  overtook  Guenever, 
and  saluted  her.  "  Heaven  prosper  thee,  Geraint," 
said  she  ;  "  and  why  didst  thou  not  go  with  thy  lord 
to  hunt  ?  "  "  Because  I  knew  not  when  he  went," 
said  he.  "  I  marvel  too,"  said  she,  "  how  he  could 
go,  unknown  to  me.  But  thou,  0  young  man,  art 
the  most  agreeable  companion  I  could  have  in  the 
whole  kingdom;  and  it  may  be  I  shall  be  more 
amused  witli  the  hunting  than  they ;  for  we  shall 
hear  the  horns  when  they  sound,  and  we  shall  hear 
the  dogs  when  they  are  let  loose  and  begin  to  cry." 


GERAINT,   THE    SON    OF   ERBIN.  299 

So  they  went  to  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  there 
they  stood.  "  From  this  place,"  said  she,  "  we  shall 
hear  when  the  dogs  are  let  loose."  And  thereupon 
they  heard  a  loud  noise ;  and  they  looked  towards 
the  spot  whence  it  came,  and  they  beheld  a  dwarf 
riding  upon  a  horse,  stately  and  foaming  and  pran- 
cing and  strong  and  spirited.  And  in  the  hand  of 
the  dwarf  was  a  whip.  And  near  the  dwarf  they 
saw  a  lady  upon  a  beautiful  white  horse,  of  steady 
and  stately  pace ;  and  she  was  clothed  in  a  garment 
of  gold  brocade.  And  near  her  was  a  knight  upon 
a  war-horse  of  large  size,  with  heavy  and  bright  ar- 
mor both  upon  himself  and  upon  his  horse.  And 
truly  they  never  before  saw  a  knight,  or  a  horse,  or 
armor,  of  such  remarkable  size. 

"  Geraint,"  said  Guenever,  "  knowest  thou  the 
name  of  that  tall  knight  yonder  ?  "  "I  know  him 
not,"  said  he,  "  and  the  strange  armor  that  he  wears 
prevents  my  either  seeing  his  face  or  his  features." 
^''  Go,  maiden,"  said  Guenever,  "  and  ask  the  dwarf 
who  that  knight  is."  Then  the  maiden  went  up  to 
the  dwarf;  and  she  inquired  of  the  dwarf  who  the 
knight  was.  "  I  will  not  tell  thee,"  he  answered. 
''  Since  thou  art  so  churlish,"  said  she,  "  I  will 
ask  him,  himself."  "  Thou  shalt  not  ask  him,  by 
my  faith,"  said  he.  "  Wherefore  not  ?  "  said  she. 
"Because  thou  art  not  of  honor  sufficient  to  befit 
thee  to  speak  to  my  lord."  Then  the  maiden 
turned  her  horse's  head  towards  the  knight,  upon 
which  the  dwarf  struck  her  with  the  whip  that  was 


oOO  THE    MABINOGEON. 

in  his  hand  across  the  face  and  the  eyes,  so  that  the 
blood  flowed  forth.  And  the  maiden  returned  to 
Guenever,  complaining  of  the  hurt  she  had  re- 
ceived. "  Very  rudely  has  the  dwarf  treated  thee," 
said  Geraint,  and  he  put  his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of 
his  sword.  But  he  took  counsel  with  himself,  and 
considered  that  it  would  be  no  vengeance  for  him  to 
slay  the  dwarf,  and  to  be  attacked  unarmed  by  the 
armed  knight ;  so  he  refrained. 

"Lady,"  said  he,  "I  will  follow  him,  with  thy 
permission,  and  at  last  he  will  come  to  some  inhab- 
ited place,  where  I  may  have  arms,  either  as  a  loan 
or  for  a  pledge,  so  that  I  may  encounter  the  knight." 
"  Go,"  said  she,  "  and  do  not  attack  him  until  thou 
hast  good  arms ;  and  I  shall  be  very  anxious  con- 
cerning thee,  until  I  hear  tidings  of  thee."  "  If  I 
am  alive,"  said  he,  "  thou  shalt  hear  tidings  of  me 
by  to-morrow  afternoon";  and  with  that  he  de- 
parted. 

And  the  road  they  took  was  below  the  palace  of 
Caerleon,  and  across  the  ford  of  the  Usk;  and  they 
went  along  a  fair  and  even  and  lofty  ridge  of 
ground,  until  they  came  to  a  town,  and  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  town  they  saw  a  fortress  and  a  castle. 
And  as  the  knight  passed  through  the  town,  all  the 
people  arose  and  saluted  him,  and  bade  him  welcome. 
And  when  Geraint  came  into  the  town,  he  looked  at 
every  house  to  see  if  he  knew  any  of  those  whom  he 
saw.  But  he  knew  none,  and  none  knew  liim,  to  do 
him  the  kindness  to  let  him  have  arms,  eitlier  as  a 


aERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  301 

loan  or  for  a  pledge.  And  every  house  he  saw  was 
full  of  men,  and  arms,  and  horses.  And  they  were 
polishing  shields,  and  burnishing  swords,  and  wash- 
ing armor,  and  shoeing  horses.  And  the  knight 
and  the  lady  and  the  dwarf  rode  up  to  the  castle, 
that  was  in  the  town,  and  every  one  was  glad  in  the 
castle.  And  from  the  battlements  and  the  gates 
they  risked  their  necks,  through  their  eagerness  to 
greet  them,  and  to  show  their  joy. 

Geraint  stood  there  to  see  whether  the  knight 
would  remain  in  the  castle ;  and  when  he  was  cer- 
tain that  he  would  do  so,  he  looked  around  him. 
And  at  a  little  distance  from  the  town  he  saw  an  old 
palace  in  ruins,  wherein  was  a  hall  that  was  falling 
to  decay.  And  as  he  knew  not  any  one  in  the 
town,  he  went  towards  the  old  palace.  And  when 
he  came  near  to  the  palace,  he  saw  a  hoary-headed 
man,  standing  by  it,  in  tattered  garments.  And 
Geraint  gazed  steadfastly  upon  him.  Then  the 
hoary-headed  man  said  to  him,  ''  Young  man, 
wherefore  art  thou  thoughtful  ?  "  "I  am  thought- 
ful," said  he,  '^because  I  know  not  where  to  pass 
the  night."  "  Wilt  thou  come  forward  this  way, 
chieftain,"  said  he,  "  and  thou  shalt  have  of  the 
best  that  can  be  procured  for  thee."  So  Geraint 
went  forward.  And  the  hoary-headed  man  led  the 
way  into  the  hall.  And  in  the  hall  he  dismounted, 
and  he  left  there  his  horse.  Then  he  went  on  to 
the  upper  chamber  with  the  hoary-headed  man. 
And  in  the  chamber  he  beheld  an  old  woman,  sit- 
so 


302  THE   MABINOGEON. 

ting  on  a  cushion,  with  old,  worn-out  garments 
upon  lier ;  yet  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  must  have 
been  comely  when  in  the  bloom  of  youth.  And  be- 
side her  was  a  maiden,  upon  whom  were,  a  vest  and 
a  veil,  that  were  old,  and  beginning  to  be  worn  out. 
And  truly  he  never  saw  a  maiden  more  full  of  come- 
liness and  grace  and  beauty  than  she.  And  the 
hoary-headed  man  said  to  the  maiden,  "  There  is  no 
attendant  for  the  horse  of  this  youth  but  thyself." 
"  I  will  render  the  best  service  I  am  able,"  said  she, 
"  both  to  him  and  to  his  horse."  And  the  maiden 
disarrayed  the  youth,  and  then  she  furnished  his 
horse  with  straw  and  with  corn ;  and  then  she  re- 
turned to  the  chamber.  And  the  hoary-headed 
man  said  to  the  maiden,  "  Go  to  the  town,  and 
bring  hither  the  best  that  thou  canst  find,  both  of 
food  and  of  liquor."  "  I  will  gladly,  lord,"  said 
she.  And  to  the  town  went  the  maiden.  And  they 
conversed  together  while  the  maiden  was  at  the 
town.  And,  behold,  the  maiden  came  back,  and  a 
youth  with  her,  bearing  on  his  back  a  costrel  full  of 
good  purchased  mead,  and  a  quarter  of  a  young  bul- 
lock. And  in  the  hands  of  the  maiden  was  a  quan- 
tity of  white  bread,  and  she  had  some  manchet 
bread  in  her  veil,  and  she  came  into  the  chamber. 
"  I  could  not  obtain  better  than  this,"  said  she, 
"  nor  with  better  should  I  have  been  trusted."  "  It 
is  good  enough,"  said  Geraint.  And  they  caused 
the  meat  to  be  boiled;  and  when  their  food  was 
ready,  they  sat  down.     And  it  was  in  this  wise. 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OP    ERBIN.  303 

Geraint  sat  between  the  hoary-headed  man  and  his 
wife,  and  the  maiden  served  them.  And  they  ate 
and  drank. 

Aiid  when  they  had  finished  eating,  Geraint 
talked  with  the  hoary-heacjed  man,  and  he  asked 
him  in  the  first  place  to  whom  belonged  the  palace 
that  he  was  in.  "  Truly,"  said  he,  "  it  was  I  that 
built  it,  and  to  me  also  belonged  the  city  and  the 
castle  which  thou  sawest."  "  Alas !  "  said  Geraint, 
"  how  is  it  that  thou  hast  lost  them  now? "  "  1  lost 
a  great  earldom  as  well  as  these,"  said  he,  "  and  this 
is  how  I  lost  them.  1  had  a  nephew,  the  son  of  my 
brother,  and  I  took  care  of  his  possessions  ;  but  he 
was  impatient  to  enter  upon  them,  so  he  made  war 
upon  me,  and  wrested  from  me  not  only  his  own,  but 
also  my  estates,  except  this  castle."  "  Good  sir," 
said  Geraint,  "wilt  thou  tell  me  wherefore  came 
the  knight  and  the  lady  and  the  dwarf  just  now 
into  the  town,  and  what  is  the  preparation  which  I 
saw,  and  the  putting  of  arms  in  order  ?  "  "I  will 
do  so,"  said  he.  ''  The  preparations  are  for  the 
game  that  is  to  be  held  to-morrow  by  the  young 
earl,  which  will  be  on  this  wise.  In  the  midst  of  a 
meadow  which  is  here,  two  forks  will  be  set  up,  and 
upon  the  two  forks  a  silver  rod,  and  upon  the  silver 
rod  a  sparrow-hawk,  and  for  the  sparrow-hawk  there 
will  be  a  tournament.  And  to  the  tournament  will 
go  all  the  array  thou  didst  see  in  the  city,  of  men 
and  of  horses  and  of  arms.  And  with  each  man 
will  go  the  lady  he  loves  best;  and  no  man  can  joust 


304:  THE    MABINOGEON. 

for  the  sparrow-hawk,  except  the  lady  he  loves  best 
be  with  him.  And  the  knight  that  thou  sawest  has 
gained  the  sparrow-hawk  these  two  years  ;  and  if  he 
gains  it  tli^  third  year,  he  will  be  called  the  Knight 
of  the  Sparrow-hawk  from  that  time  forth."  "  Sir," 
said  Geraint,  "•  what  is  thy  counsel  to  me  concern- 
ing this  knight,  on  account  of  the  insult  which  the 
maiden  of  Gluenever  received  from  the  dwarf?" 
And  Geraint  told  the  hoary-headed  man  what  the 
insult  was  that  the  maiden  had  received.  "  It  is 
not  easy  to  counsel  thee,  inasmuch  as  thou  hast 
neither  dame  nor  maiden  belonging  to  thee,  for 
whom  thou  canst  joust.  Yet  I  have  arms  here, 
which  thou  couldst  have,  and  there  is  my  horse  also, 
if  he  seem  to  thee  better  than  thine  own."  ''Ah, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  Heaven  reward  thee  !  But  my  own 
horse,  to  which  I  am  accustomed,  together  with 
thine  arms,  will  suffice  me.  And  if,  when  the  ap- 
pointed time  shall  come  to-morrow,  thou  wilt  permit 
me,  sir,  to  challenge  for  yonder  maiden  that  is  thy 
daughter,  I  will  engage,  if  I  escape  from  the  tour- 
nament, to  love  the  maiden  as  long  as  I  live." 
"  Gladly  will  I  permit  thee,"  said  the  hoary-headed 
man  ;  "  and  since  thou  dost  thus  resolve,  it  is  neces- 
sary that  thy  horse  and  arms  should  be  ready  to- 
morrow at  break  of  day.  For  then  the  Knight  of 
the  Sparrow-hawk  will  make  proclamation,  and  ask 
the  lady  he  loves  best  to  take  the  sparrow-hawk ;  and 
if  any  deny  it  to  her,  by  force  will  he  defend  her 
claim.    And  therefore,"  said  the  hoary-headed  man, 


GERAINT,   THE    SON    OF    EKBIN.  305 

"  it  is  needful  for  thee  to  be  there  at  daybreak,  and 
we  three  will  be  with  thee."  And  thus  was  it  set- 
tled. 

And  at  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  before  the 
dawn  they  arose  and  arrayed  themselves ;  and  by 
the  time  that  it  was  day,  they  were  all  four  in  the 
meadow.  And  there  was  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow- 
hawk  making  the  proclamation,  and  asking  his  lady- 
love to  take  the  sparrow-hawk.  ''  Take  it  not,"  said 
Geraint,  "  for  here  is  a  maiden  who  is  fairer,  and 
more  noble,  and  more  comely,  and  who  has  a  better 
claim  to  it  than  thou."  Then  said  the  knight,  "  If 
thou  maintainest  the  sparrow-hawk  to  be  due  to  her, 
come  forward  and  do  battle  with  me."  And  Geraint 
went  forward  to  the  top  of  the  meadow,  having  upon 
himself  and  upon  his  horse  armor  which  was  heavy 
and  rusty,  and  of  uncouth  shape.  Then  they  en- 
countered each  other,  and  they  broke  a  set  of  lances ; 
and  they  broke  a  second  set,  and  a  third.  And 
when  the  earl  and  his  company  saw  the  Knight  of 
the  Sparrow-hawk  gaining  the  mastery,  there  was 
shouting  and  joy  and  mirth  amongst  them ;  and  the 
hoary-headed  man  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter 
were  sorrowful.  And  the  hoary-headed  man  served 
Geraint  with  lances  as  often  as  he  broke  them,  and 
the  dwarf  served  the  Knight  of  the  Sparrow-hawk. 
Then  the  hoary-headed  man  said  to  Geraint,  "  0 
chieftain,  since  no  other  will  hold  with  thee,  behold, 
here  is  the  lance  which  was  in  my  hand  on  the  day 
when  I  received  the  honor  of  knighthood,  and  from 

26* 


306  THE    MABIXOGEON. 

that  time  to  this  I  never  broke  it,  and  it  has  an 
excellent  point."  Then  Geraint  took  the  lance, 
thanking  the  hoary-headed  man.  And  thereupon 
the  dwarf  also  brought  a  lance  to  his  lord.  "  Be- 
hold, here  is  a  lance  for  thee,  not  less  good  than 
his,"  said  the  dwarf.  "  And  bethink  thee  that  no 
knight  ever  withstood  thee  so  long  as  this  one  has 
done."  ^'I  declare  to  Heaven,"  said  Geraint,  ''that 
unless  death  takes  me  quickly  hence,  he  shall  fare 
never  tha  better  for  thy  service."  And  Geraint 
pricked  his  horse  towards  him  from  afar,  and,  warn- 
ing him,  he  rushed  upon  him,  and  gave  him  a  blow 
so  severe,  and  furious,  and  fierce,  upon  the  face  of 
his  shield,  that  he  cleft  it  in  two,  and  broke  his 
armor,  and  burst  his  girths,  so  that  both  he  and  his 
saddle  were  borne  to  the  ground  over  the  horse's 
crupper.  And  Geraint  dismounted  quickly.  And 
he  was  wroth,  and  he  drew  his  sword,  and  rushed 
fiercely  upon  him.  Then  the  knight  also  arose,  and 
drew  his  sword  against  Geraint.  And  they  fought 
on  foot  with  their  swords  until  their  arms  struck 
sparks  of  fire  like  stars  from  one  another  ;  and  thus 
they  continued  figliting  until  the  blood  and  sweat 
obscured  the  light  from  their  eyes.  At  length  Ge- 
raint called  to  him  all  his  strength,  and  struck  the 
knight  upon  the  crown  of  his  head,  so  that  he  broke 
all  his  head-armor,  and  cut  through  all  the  flesh 
and  the  skin,  even  to  the  skull,  until  he  wounded 
the  bone. 

Then  the  knight  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  cast  his 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    EKBIN.  307 

sword  from  his  hand,  and  besought  mercy  from  Ge- 
raint.  ^'  Of  a  truth,"  said  he,  "  I  relinquish  my 
OYerdaring  and  my  pride,  and  crave  thy  mercy ; 
and  unless  I  have  time  to  commit  myself  to  Heaven 
for  my  sins,  and  to  talk  with  a  priest,  thy  mercy  will 
avail  me  little."  "  I  will  grant  thee  grace  upon 
this  condition,"  said  Geraint ;  "  that  thou  go  to 
Guenever,  the  wife  of  Arthur,  to  do  her  satisfaction 
for  the  insult  which  her  maiden  received  from  thy 
dwarf.  Dismount  not  from  the  time  thou  goest 
hence  until  thou  comest  into  the  presence  of  Gue- 
never, to  make  her  what  atonement  shall  be  adjudged 
at  the  court  of  Arthur."  "  This  will  I  do  gladly ; 
and  who  art  thou  ? "  ^'  I  am  Geraint,  the  son  of 
Erbin  ;  and  declare  thou  also  who  thou  art."  "  I 
am  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  he  threw  him- 
self upon  his  horse,  and  went  forward  to  Arthur's 
court ;  and  the  lady  he  loved  best  went  before  him, 
and  the  dwarf,  with  much  lamentation. 

Then  came  the  young  earl  and  his  hosts  to  Ge- 
raint, and  saluted  him,  and  bade  him  to  his  castle. 
''  I  may  not  go,"  said  Geraint ;  "  but  where  I  was 
last  night,  there  will  I  be  to-night  also."  "  Since 
thou  wilt  none  of  my  inviting,  thou  shalt  have  abun- 
dance of  all  that  I  can  command  for  thee  ;  and  I 
will  order  ointment  for  thee,  to  recover  thee  from 
thy  fatigues,  and  from  the  weariness  that  is  upon 
thee."  "  Heaven  reward  thee,"  said  Geraint,  "  and 
I  will  go  to  my  lodghig."  And  thus  went  Geraint 
and  Earl  Ynywl,  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter. 


308  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

And  when  they  reached  the  old  mansion,  the  house- 
hold servants  and  attendants  of  the  young  earl  had 
arrived,  and  had  arranged  all  the  apartments,  dress- 
ing them  with  straw  and  with  fire ;  and  in  a  short 
time  the  ointment  was  ready,  and  Geraint  came 
there,  and  they  washed  his  head.  Then  came  the 
young  earl,  with  forty  honorable  knights  from 
among  his  attendants,  and  those  who  were  bidden 
to  the  tournament.  And  Geraint  came  from  the 
anointing.  And  the  earl  asked  him  to  go  to  the 
hall  to  eat.  "Where  is  the  Earl  Ynywl,"  said 
Geraint,  "  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter  ? "  "-  They 
are  in  the  chamber  yonder,"  said  the  earl's  cham- 
berlain, '•'  arraying  themselves  in  garments  which 
the  earl  has  caused  to  be  brought  for  them."  "Let 
not  the  damsel  array  herself,"  said  he,  "  except  in 
her  vest  and  her  veil,  until  she  come  to  the  court  of 
Arthur,  to  be  clad  by  Guenever  in  such  garments 
as  she  may  choose."  So  the  maiden  did  not  array 
herself. 

Then  they  all  entered  the  hall,  and  they  washed, 
and  sat  down  to  meat.  And  thus  were  they  seated. 
On  one  side  of  Geraint  sat  the  young  earl,  and  Earl 
Ynywl  beyond  him,  and  on  the  other  side  of  Geraint 
was  the  maiden  and  her  mother.  And  after  these 
all  sat  according  to  their  precedence  in  honor.  And 
they  ate.  And  they  were  served  abundantly,  and 
they  received  a  profusion  of  divers  kinds  of  gifts. 
Then  they  conversed  together.  And  the  young  earl 
invited  Geraint  to  visit  him  next  day.     "  I  v»'ill  not, 


GEUAINT,    THE    SOX    OF    ERBIN.  309 

by  Heaven,"  said  Geraiiit.  ''  To  the  court  of  Ar- 
thur will  I  go  with  this  maiden  to-morrow.  And  it 
is  enough  for  me,  as  long  as  Earl  Ynywl  is  in  pov- 
erty and  trouble  ;  and  I  go  chiefly  to  seek  to  add  to 
his  maintenance."  ^' Ah,  chieftain,"  said  the  young 
etirl,  "  it  is  not  by  my  fault  that  Earl  Ynywl  is  with- 
out his  possessions."  ''By  my  faith,"  said  Geraint, 
"he  shall  not  remain  without  them,  unless  death ^ 
quickly  takes  me  hence."  "  0  chieftain,"  said  he, 
"  with  regard  to  the  disagreement  between  me  and 
Ynywl,  I  will  gladly  abide  by  thy  counsel,  and  agree 
to  what  thou  mayest  judge  right  between  us,"  "  I 
but  ask  thee,"  said  Geraint,  "  to  restore  to  him 
what  is  his,  and  what  he  should  have  received  from 
the  time  he  lost  his  possessions  even  until  this  day." 
"  That  will  I  do,  gladly,  for  thee,"  answered  he. 
''Then,"  said  Geraint,  "whosoever  is  here  who 
owes  homage  to  Ynywl,  let  him  come  forward,  and 
perform  it  on  the  spot."  And  all  the  men  did  so  ; 
and  by  that  treaty  they  abided.  And  his  castle  and 
his  town,  and  all  his  possessions,  were  restored  to 
Ynywl.  And  he  received  back  all  that  he  had  lost, 
even  to  the  smallest  jewel. 

Then  spoke  Earl  Ynywl  to  Geraint.  "  Chieftain," 
said  he,  "  behold  the  maiden  for  whom  thou  didst 
challenge  at  the  tournament ;  I  bestow  her  upon 
thee."  "  She  shall  go  with  me,"  said  Geraint,  "  to 
the  court  of  Arthur,  and  Arthur  and  Guenever,  they 
shall  dispose  of  her  as  they  will."  And  the  next 
day  they  proceeded  to  Arthur's  court.  So  far  con- 
cerning Geraint. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

» 

GERAINT,  THE    SON  OF   ERBIN,    CONTINUED. 

Now  this  is  how  Arthur  hunted  the  stag.  The 
men  and  the  dogs  were  divided  into  hunting-parties, 
and  the  dogs  were  let  loose  upon  the  stag.  And  the 
last  dog  that  was  let  loose  was  the  favorite  dog  of 
Arthur ;  Cavall  was  his  name.  And  he  left  all  the 
other  dogs  behind  him,  and  turned  the  stag.  And 
at  the  second  turn  the  stag  came  toward  the  hunt- 
ing-party of  Arthur.  And  Arthur  set  upon  him ; 
and  before  he  could  be  slain  by  any  other,  Arthur 
cut  off  his  head.  Then  they  sounded  the  death-horn 
for  slaying,  and  they  all  gathered  round. 

Then  came  Kadyriath  to  Arthur,  and  spoke  to 
him.  "  Lord,"  said  he,  "  behold,  yonder  is  Gue- 
never,  and  none  with  her  save  only  one  maiden." 
"  Command  Gildas,  the  son  of  Caw,  and  all  the 
scholars  of  the  court,"  said  Arthur,  "  to  attend 
Guenever  to  the  palace."     And  they  did  so. 

Then  they  all  set  forth,  holding  converse  together 
concerning  the  head  of  tlie  stag,  to  whom  it  should 
be  given.    One  wished  that  it  should  be  given  to  the 


GERAINT,   THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  311 

lady  best  beloved  by  liim,  and  another  to  the  lady 
whom  he  loved  best.  And  so  they  came  to  the  pal- 
ace. And  when  Arthur  and  Guenever  heard  them 
disputing  about  the  head  of  the  stag,  Guenever  said 
to  Arthur:  "My  lord,  this  is  my  counsel  concerning 
the  stag's  head  ;  let  it  not  be  given  away  until  Ge- 
raint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  shall  return  from  the  errand 
he  is  upon."  And  Guenever  told  Arthur  what  that 
errand  was.  "  Right  gladly  shall  it  be  so,"  said 
Arthur.  And  Guenever  caused  a  watch  to  be  set 
upon  the  ramparts  for  Geraint's  coming.  And  after 
midday  they  beheld  an  unshapely  little  man  upon  a 
horse,  and  after  him  a  dame  or  a  damsel,  also  on 
horseback,  and  after  her  a  knight  of  large  statiire, 
bowed  down,  and  hanging  his  head  low  and  sorrow- 
fully, and  clad  in  broken  and  worthless  armor. 

And  before  they  came  near  to  the  gate,  one  of  the 
watch  went  to  Guenever,  and  told  her  what  kind  of 
people  they  saw,  and  what  aspect  they  bore.  "  I 
know  not  who  they  are,"  said  he.  "  But  /  know," 
said  Guenever ;  "  this  is  the  knight  whom  Geraint 
pursued,  and  methinks  that  he  comes  not  here  by 
his  own  free  will.  But  Geraint  has  overtaken  him, 
and  avenged  the  insult  to  the  maiden  to  the  utter- 
most." And  thereupon,  behold,  a  porter  came  to 
the  spot  where  Guenever  was.  "  Lady,"  said  he, 
"  at  the  gate  there  is  a  knight,  and  I  saw  never  a 
man  of  so  pitiful  an  aspect  to  look  upon  as  he. 
Miserable  and  broken  is  the  armor  that  he  wears, 
and  the  hue  of  blood  is  more  conspicuous  Tipon  it 


312  THE    MABIXOGEON. 

than  its  own  color."  "  Knowest  thou  his  name  ?  " 
said  she.  "  I  do,"  said  he  ;  "  he  tells  me  that  he  is 
Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd."  Then  she  replied,  ''  I 
know  him  not." 

So  Guenever  went  to  the  gate  to  meet  him,  and 
he  entered.  And  Guenever  was  sorry  when  she  saw 
the  condition  he  was  in,  even  though  he  was  accom- 
panied by  the  churlish  dwarf.  Then  Edeyrn  saluted 
Guenever.  "Heaven  protect  thee,"  said  she.  "La- 
dy," said  he,  "  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  thy  best 
and  most  valiant  servant,  greets  thee."  "  Did  he 
meet  with  thee  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Yes,"  said  he, 
"and  it  was  nofto  my  advantage:  and  that  was 
not  his  fault,  but  mine,  lady.  And  Geraint  greets 
thee  well ;  and  in  greeting  thee  he  compelled  me 
to  come  hither  to  do  thy  pleasure  for  the  insult 
which  thy  maiden  received  from  tlie  dwarf."  "  Now 
where  did  he  overtake  thee  ?  "  "At  the  place  where 
we  were  jousting  and  contending  for  the  sparrow-  • 
hawk,  in  the  town  which  is  now  called  Cardiff. 
And  it  was  for  the  avouehment  of  the  love  of  the 
maiden,  the  daughter  of  Earl  Ynywl,  that  Geraint 
jousted  at  the  tournament.  And  thereupon  we  en- 
countered each  other,  and  he  left  me,  lady,  as  thou 
seest."  "  Sir,"  said  she,  "  when  thinkest  thou  that 
Geraint  will  be  here?  "  "  To-morrow,  lady,  I  think 
he  will  be  here  with  the  maiden." 

Then  Arthur  came  to  them.  And  he  saluted 
Arthur,  and  Arthur  gazed  a  long  time  upon  him, 
and  was  amazed   to  see  him  tlius.     And  thinkiim* 


GEKAINT,    THE    aOX    OF    EUBIX.  31S 

that  he  knew  him,  he  inquired  of  him,  ^'  Art  thou 
Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd  ?  "  ''I  am,  lord,"  said 
he,  "  and  I  have  met  with  much  trouble  and  re- 
ceived wounds  unsupportable."  Then  he  told  Ar- 
thur all  his  adventure.  "  Well,"  said  Arthur, 
"  from  what  I  hear,  it  behooves  Guenever  to  be 
merciful  towards  thee."  "  The  mercy  which  thou 
desirest,  lord,"  said  she,  "  will  I  grant  to  him,  since 
it  is  as  insulting  to  thee  that  an  insult  should  be 
offered  to  me  as  to  thyself."  "  Thus  will  it  be  best 
to  do,"  said  Arthur ;  "  let  this  man  have  medical 
care  until  it  be  known  whether  he  may  live.  And 
if  he  live,  he  shall  do  such  satisfaction  as  shall  be 
judged  best  by  the  men  of  the  court.  And  if  he 
die,  too  much  will  be  the  death  of  such  a  youth  as 
Edeyrn  for  an  insult  to  a  maiden."  "  This  pleases 
me,"  said  Guenever.  And  Arthur  caused  Morgan 
Tud  to  be  called  to  him.  He  was  the  chief  physi- 
cian. "  Take  with  thee  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd, 
and  cause  a  chamber  to  be  prepared  for  him,  and 
let  him  have  the  aid  of  medicine  as  thou  wouldest 
do  unto  myself,  if  I  were  wounded ;  and  let  none 
into  his  chamber  to  molest  him,  but  tliyself  and  thy 
disciples,  to  administer  to  him  remedies."  "  I  will 
do  so,  gladly,  lord,"  said  Morgan  Tud.  Then  said 
the  steward  of  the  household,  "  Whither  is  it  right, 
lord,  to  order  the  maiden?"  ''To  Guenever  and 
her  handmaidens,"  said  he.  And  the  steward  of 
the  household  so  ordered  her. 

The  next  day  came  Geraint   towards  the  court ; 


314  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

and  there  was  a  watch  set  on  the  ramparts  by  Gue- 
never,  lest  he  should  arrive  unawares.  And  one  of 
the  watch  came  to  Gucnever.  "  Lady,"  said  he, 
"  methinks  that  I  see  Geraint,  and  a  maiden  with 
him.  He  is  on  horseback,  but  he  has  his  walking 
gear  upon  him,  and  the  maiden  appears  to  be  in 
white,  seeming  to  be  clad  in  a  garment  of  linen." 
"  Assemble  all  the  women,"  said  Guenever,  "  and 
come  to  meet  Geraint,  to  welcome  him,  and  wish 
him  joy."  And  Guenever  went  to  meet  Geraint 
and  the  maiden.  And  when  Geraint  came  to 
the  place  where  Guenever  was,  he  saluted  her. 
"Heaven  prosper  thee," -said  she,  "and  welcome 
to  thee."  "  Lady,"  said  he,  "  I  earnestly  desired 
to  obtain  thee  satisfaction,  according  to  thy  will; 
and,  behold,  here  is  the  maiden  through  whom  thou 
hadst  thy  revenge."  "Verily,"  said  Guenever, 
"  the  welcome  of  Heaven  be  unto  her ;  and  it  is  fit- 
ting that  we  should  receive  her  joyfully."  Then 
they  went  in  and  dismounted.  And  Geraint  came 
to  where  Arthur  was,  and  saluted  him.  "  Heaven 
protect  thee,"  said  Arthur,  "  and  the  welcome  of 
Heaven  be  unto  thee.  And  inasmuch  as  thou  hast 
vanquished  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  thou  hast 
had  a  prosperous  career."  "  Not  upon  me  be  the 
blame,"  said  Geraint;  "it  was  through  the  arro- 
gance of  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd,  himself,  that  we 
were  not  friends."  "  Now,"  said  Arthur,  "  where 
is  the  maiden  for  whom  I  heard  thou  didst  give 
challenge?"     "She  is  gone  with  Guenever  to  lier 


GERAINT,    THP:    SON    OF    ERBIN.  SlO" 

chamber."  Then  went  Arthur  to  see  the  maiden. 
And  Arthur,  and  all  his  companions,  and  his  whole 
court,  were  glad  concerning  the  maiden.  And  cer- 
tain were  they  all,  that,  had  her  array  been  suitable 
to  her  beauty,  they  had  never  seen  a  maid  fairer 
than  she.  And  Arthur  gave  away  the  maiden  to 
Geraint.  And  the  usual  bond  made  between  two 
persons  was  made  between  Geraint  and  the  maiden, 
and  the  choicest  of  all  Guenever's  apparel  was 
given  to  the  maiden ;  and  thus  arrayed,  she  ap- 
peared comely  and  graceful  to  all  who  beheld  her. 
And  that  day  and  the  night  were  spent  in  abun- 
dance of  minstrelsy,  and  ample  gifts  of  liquor,  and 
a  multitude  of  games.  And  when  it  was  time  for 
tliem  to  go  to  sleep,  they  went.  And  in  the  cham- 
ber where  the  couch  of  Arthur  and  Guenever  was, 
the  couch  of  Geraint  and  Enid  was  prepared.  And 
from  that  time  she  became  his  wife.  And  the  next 
day  Arthur  satisfied  all  the  claimants  upon  Geraint 
with  bountiful  gifts.  And  the  maiden  took  up  her 
abode  in  the  palace,  and  she  had  many  companions, 
both  men  and  women,  and  there  was  no  maiden 
more  esteemed  than  she  in  the  island  of  Britain. 
Then  spake  Guenever.  "  Rightly  did  I  judge," 
said  she,  'Vconcerning  the  head  of  the  stag,  that  it 
should  not  be  given  to  any  imtil  Geraint's  return,; 
and  behold,  here  is  a  fit  occasion  for  bestowing  it. 
Let  it  be  given  to  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Ynywl,  the 
most  illustrious  maiden.  And  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  will  begrudge  it  her,  for  between  her  and  every 


316  THE    MABTNOGEON. 

one  here  there  exists  nothmg  but  love  and  friend- 
ship." Much  applauded  was  this  bj  them  all,  and 
by  Arthur  also.  And  the  head  of  the  stag  was 
given  to  Enid.  And  thereupon  her  fame  increased, 
and  her  friends  became  more  in  number  than  be- 
fore. And  Geraint  from  that  time  forth  loved  the 
liunt,  and  the  tournament,  and  hard  encounters ; 
and  he  came  victorious  from  them  all.  And  a  year, 
and  a  second,  and  a  third,  he  proceeded  thus,  until 
his  fame  had  flown  over  the  face  of  the  kingdom. 

And,  once  upon  a  time,  Arthur  was  holding  his 
court  at  Caerleon  upon  Usk ;  and  behold,  there 
came  to  him  ambassadors,  wise  and  prudent,  full  of 
knowledge  and  eloquent  of  speech,  and  they  saluted 
Arthur.  "Heaven  prosper  you!"  said  Arthur; 
'^  and  whence  do  you  come  ?  "  "  We  come,  lord," 
said  they,  "•  from  Cornwall ;  and  Ave  are  ambassa- 
dors from  Erbin,  the  son  of  Custennin,  thy  uncle, 
and  our  mission  is  unto  thee.  And  he  greets  thee 
well,  as  an  uncle  should  greet  his  nephew,  and  as  a 
vassal  should  greet  his  lord.  And  he  represents 
unto  thee  that  he  waxes  heavy  and  feeble,  and  is 
advancing  in  years.  And  the  neighboring  chiefs, 
knowing  this,  grow  insolent  towards  him,  and  covet 
his  land  and  possessions.  And  he  earnestly  be- 
seeches thee,  lord,  to  permit  Geraint  his  son  to 
return  to  him,  to  protect  his  possessions,  and  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  his  boundaries.  And  unto 
him  he  represents  that  it  were  better  for  him  to 
spend  the  flower  of  his  youth  and  the  prime  of  his 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  317 

age  in  preserving  his  own  boundaries,  than  in  tour- 
naments which  are  productive  of  no  profit,  although 
he  obtains  glory  in  them." 

"  Well,"  said  Arthur,  "  go  and  divest  yourselves 
of  your  accoutrements,  and  take  food,  and  refresh 
yourselves  after  your  fatigues;  and  before  you  go 
from  hence  you  shall  have  an  answer."  And  they 
went  to  eat.  And  Arthur  considered  that  it  would 
go  hard  with  him  to  let  Geraint  depart  from  him, 
and  from  his  court ;  neither  did  he  think  it  fair  that 
his  cousin  should  be  restrained  from  going  to  pro- 
tect his  dominions  and  his  boundaries,  seeing  that 
his  father  was  unable  to  do  so.  No  less  was  the 
grief  and  regret  of  Guenever,  and  all  her  women, 
and  all  her  damsels,  through  fear  that  the  maiden 
would  leave  them.  And  that  day  and  that  night 
were  spent  in  abundance  of  feasting.  And  Arthur 
told  Geraint  the  cause  of  the  mission,  and  of  the 
coming  of  the  ambassadors  to  him  out  of  Cornwall. 
"  Truly,"  said  Geraint,  "  be  it  to  my  advantage  or 
disadvantage,  lord,  I  will  do  according  to  thy  will 
concerning  this  embassy."  "  Behold,"  said  Arthur, 
''though  it  grieves  me  to  part  with  thee,  it  is  my 
counsel  that  thou  go  to  dwell  in  thine  own  domin- 
ions, and  to  defend  thy  boundaries,  and  take  with 
thee  to  accompany  thee  as  many  as  thou  wilt  of 
those  thou  lovest  best  among  my  faithful  ones,  and 
among  thy  friends,  and  among  thy  companions  in 
arms."  "  Heaven  reward  thee  !  and  this  will  I  do," 
said  Geraint.     "  What  discourse,"    said  Guenever, 

27^ 


318  THE    MABINOGEON. 

"  do  I  hear  between  you  ?  Is  it  of  those  who  are  to 
conduct  Geraint  to  his  country  ?  "  "  It  is,"  said 
Arthur.  "  Then  is  it  needful  for  me  to  consider," 
said  she,  "  concerning  companions  and  a  provision 
for  the  lady  that  is  with  me."  ^'  Thou  wilt  do 
well,"  said  Arthur. 

And  that  night  they  went  to  sleep.  And  the 
next  day  the  ambassadors  were  permitted  to  depart, 
and  they  were  told  that  Geraint  should  follow  them. 
And  on  the  third  day  Geraint  set  forth,  and  many 
went  with  him,  —  Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar,  and 
Riogoned,  the  son  of  the  king  of  Ireland,  and  Ond- 
yaw,  the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  Gwilim,  the 
son  of  the  ruler  of  the  Franks,  Howel,  the  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Brittany,  Perceval,  the  son  of  Evrawk,  Gwyr, 
a  judge  in  the  court  of  Arthur,  Bedwyr,  the  son  of 
Bedrawd,  Kai,  the  son  of  Kyner,  Odyar,  the  Frank, 
and  Edeyrn,  the  son  of  Nudd.  Said  Geraint,  '^  I 
think  I  shall  have  enough  of  knighthood  with  me." 
And  they  set  forth.  And  never  was  there  seen  a 
fairer  host  journeying  towards  the  Severn.  And  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Severn  were  the  nobles  of  Er- 
bin,  the  son  of  Custennin,  and  his  foster-father  at 
their  head,  to  Avelcome  Geraint  with  gladness ;  and 
many  of  the  women  of  the  court,  with  his  mother, 
came  to  receive  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Ynywl,  his 
wife.  And  there  was  great  rejoicing  and  gladness 
throughout  the  whole  court,  and  through  all  the 
country,  concerning  Geraint,  because  of  the  great- 
ness of  their  love  to  him,  and  of  the  greatness  of  the 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    EKBIN.  319 

fame  which  he  had  gained  since  he  went  from 
amongst  them,  and  because  he  was  come  to  take 
possession  of  his  dominions,  and  to  preserve  his 
boundaries.  And  they  came  to  the  court.  And  in 
the  court  they  had  ample  entertainment,  and  a  mul- 
titude of  gifts,  and  abundance  of  liquor,  and  a  suffi- 
ciency of  service,  and  a  variety  of  games.  And  to 
do  honor  to  Geraint,  all  the  chief  men  of  the  coun- 
try were  invited  that  night  to  visit  him.  And  they 
passed  that  day  and  that  night  in  the  utmost  enjoy- 
ment. And  at  dawn  next  day  Erbin  arose,  and 
summoned  to  him  Geraint,  and  the  noble  persons 
who  had  borne  him  company.  And  he  said  to  Ge- 
raint :  ''  I  am  a  feeble  and  an  aged  man,  and  whilst 
I  was  able  to  maintain  the  dominion  for  thee  and  for 
myself,  I  did  so.  But  thou  art  young,  and  in  the 
flower  of  thy  vigor  and  of  thy  youth.  Henceforth 
do  thou  preserve  thy  possessions."  "  Truly,"  said 
Geraint,  "  with  my  consent  thou  shalt  not  give  the 
power  over  thy  dominions  at  this  time  into  my 
hands,  and  thou  shalt  not  take  me  from  Arthur's 
court"  *'Into  thy  hands  will  I  give  them,"  said 
Erbin,  ''  and  this  day  also  shalt  thou  receive  the 
homage  of  thy  subjects." 

.Then  said  Gawain,  ''It. were  better  for  thee  to 
satisfy  those  who  have  boons  to  ask,  to-day,  and  to- 
morrow thou  canst  receive  the  homage  of  thy  do- 
minions." So  all  that  had  boons  to  ask  were  sum- 
moned into  one  place.  And  Kadyrieth  came  to 
them  to  know  what  were  tlicir  requests.     And  ev- 


320  THE    M.UilNOGEOX. 

ery  one  asked  that  which  he  desired.  And  the  fol- 
lowers of  Arthur  began  to  make  gifts,  and  immedi- 
atelj  the  men  of  Cornwall  came,  and  gave  also. 
And  they  were  not  long  in  giving,  so  eager  was 
every  one  to  bestow  gifts.  And  of  those  who  came 
to  ask  gifts,  none  departed  unsatisfied.  And  that 
day  and  that  night  were  spent  in  the  utmost  enjoy- 
ment. 

And  the  next  day  at  dawn,  Erbin  desired  Geraint 
to  send  messengers  to  the  men  to  ask  them  whether 
it  was  displeasing  to  them  that  he  should  come  to 
receive  their  homage,  and  whether  they  had  any- 
thing to  object  to  him.  Then  Geraint  sent  ambas- 
sadors to  the  men  of  Cornwall  to  ask  them  this. 
And  they  all  said  that  it  would  be  the  fulness  of 
joy  and  honor  to  them  for  Geraint  to  come  and  re- 
ceive their  homage.  So  he  received  the  homage  of 
such  as  were  there.  And  the  day  after,  the  follow- 
ers of  Arthur  intended  to  go  away.  "  It  is  too 
soon  for  you  to  go  away  yet,"  said  he ;  "  stay  with 
me  until  I  have  finished  receiving  the  homage  of 
my  chief  men,  who  have  agreed  to  come  to  me." 
And  they  remained  with  him  until  he  had  done  so. 
Then  they  set  forth  towards  the  court  of  Arthur. 
And  Geraint  went  to  bear  them  company,  and  Enid 
also,  as  far  as  Diganwy ;  there  they  parted.  And 
Ondyaw,  the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  said  to 
Geraint,  "  Go,  now,  and  visit  the  uttermost  parts  of 
thy  dominions,  and  see  well  to  the  boundaries  of  thy 
territories ;    and  if  thou  hast  any  trouble  respect- 


GKRAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  321 

ing  tliem,  send  unto  thy  companions."  ^'Heaven 
reward  thee  !  "  said  Geraint ;  ''  and  this  will  I  do." 
And  Geraint  journeyed  to  the  uttermost  parts  of 
his  dominions.  And  experienced  guides,  and  the 
chief  men  of  his  country,  went  with  him.  And  the 
furthermost  point  that  they  showed  him  he  kept 
possession  of. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

GERAINT,   THE   SON  OF  ERBIN,   CONTINUED. 

Geraint,  as  he  had  been  used  to  do  when  he  was 
at  Arthur's  court,  frequented  tournaments.  And 
he  became  acquainted  with  valiant  and  mighty  men, 
until  he  had  gained  as  much  fame  there  as  he  had 
formerly  done  elsewhere.  And  he  enriched  his 
court,  and  his  companions,  and  his  nobles,'  with  the 
best  horses  and  the  best  arms,  and  with  the  best  and 
most  valuable  jewels,  and  he  ceased  not  until  his 
fame  had  flown  over  the  face  of  the  whole  kingdom. 
When  he  knew  that  it  was  thus,  he  began  to  love 
ease  and  pleasure,  for  there  was  no  one  who  was 
worth  his  opposing.  And  he  loved  his  wife,  and 
liked  to  continue  in  the  palace,  with  minstrelsy  and 
diversions.  So  he  began  to  shut  himself  up  in  the 
chamber  of  his  wife,  and  he  took  no  delight  in  any- 
thing besides,  insomuch  that  he  gave  up  the  friend- 
ship of  his  nobles,  together  with  his  hunting  and  his 
amusements,  and  lost  the  hearts  of  all  the  host  in 
his  court.  And  there  was  murmuring  and  scoffing 
concerning  him  among  tlie  inhabitants  of  the  palace, 


GERAXNT,    THE    SOX    OF    ERBIN.  323 

on  account  of  his  relinquishing  so  completely  their 
companionship  for  the  love  of  his  wife.  These  ti- 
^timgs  came  to  Erbin.  And  when  Erbin  had  heard 
these  things,  he  spoke  unto  Enid,  and  inquired  of 
her  whether  it  was  she  that  had  caused  Geraint  to 
act  thus,  and  to  forsake  his  people  and  his  hosts. 
"  Not  I,  by  my  confession  unto  Heaven,"  said  she  ; 
"  there  is  nothing  more  hateful  unto  me  than  this." 
And  she  knew  not  what  she  should  do,  for,  although 
it  was  hard  for  her  to  own  this  to  Geraint,  yet  was 
it  not  more  easy  for  her  to  listen  to  wiiat  she  heard, 
without  warning  Geraint  concerning  it.  And  she 
was  very  sorrowful. 

One  morning  in  the  summer-time  they  were  upon 
their  couch,  and  Geraint  lay  upon  the  edge  of  it. 
And  Enid  was  without  sleep  in  the  apartment,  which 
had  windows  of  glass ;  *  and  the  sun  shone  upon  the 
couch.  And  the  clothes  had  slipped  from  off  his 
arms  and  his  breast,  and  he  was  asleep.  Then  she 
gazed  upon  the  marvellous  beauty  of  his  appearance, 
and  she  said,  "  Alas  !  and  am  I  the  cause  that  these 
arms  and  this  breast  have  lost  their  glory,  and  the 
warlike  fame  which  they  once  so  richly  enjoyed  !  " 
As  she  said  this  the  tears  dropped  from  her  eyes, 

=^  The  terms  of  admiration  in  which  the  older  writers  invariably 
speak  o^  glass  windows  would  be  sufficient  proof,  if  other  evidence  were 
wanting,  how  rare  an  article  of  luxury  they  were  in  the  houses  of  our 
ancestors.  They  were  first  introduced  in  ecclesiastical  architecture, 
to  which  they  were  for  a  long  time  confined.  Glass  is  said  not  to 
have  been  employed  in  domestic  architecture  before  the  fourteenth 
century. 


S2i  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

and  they  fell  tipon  his  breast.  And  the  tears  she 
shed,  and  the  words  she  had  spoken,  awoke  him. 
And  another  thing  contributed  to  awaken  him,  and 
that  was  the  idea  that  it  was  not  in  thinking  of  him 
that  she  spoke  thus,  but  that  it  was  because  she 
loved  some  other  man  more  than  him,  and  that  she 
wished  for  other  society.  Thereupon  Geraint  was 
troubled  in  his  mind,  and  he  called  his  squire  ;  and 
when  lie  came  to  him,  "  Go  quickly,"  said  he,  ''  and 
prepare  my  horse  and  my  arms,  and  make  them 
ready.  And  do  thou  arise,"  said  he  to  Enid,  ''  and 
apparel  thyself ;  and  cause  thy  horse  to  be  accou- 
tred, and  clothe  thee  in  the  worst  riding-dress  that 
thou  hast  in  thy  possession.  And  evil  betide  me," 
said  he,  "  if  thou  returnest  here  until  thou  knowest 
whether  I  have  lost  my  strength  so  completely  as 
thou  didst  say.  And  if  it  be  so,  it  will  then  be  easy 
for  thee  to  seek  the  society  thou  didst  wish  for  of 
him  of  whom  thou  wast  thinking."  So  she  arose, 
and  clothed  herself  in  her  meanest  garments.  "  I 
know  nothing,  lord,"  said  she,  "  of  thy  meaning." 
''  Neither  wilt  thou  know  at  this  time,"  said  he. 

Then  Geraint  went  to  see  Erbin.  "  Sir,"  said  he, 
"'  I  am  going  upon  a  quest,  and  I  am  not  certain 
when  I  may  come  back.  Take  heed,  therefore, 
unto  thy  possessions  until  my  return."  "  I  will  do 
so,"  said  he  ;  "  but  it  is  strange  to  me  that  thou 
shouldst  go  so  suddenly.  And  who  will  proceed 
with  thee,  since  thou  art  not  strong  enough  to 
traverse  the  land  of  Loegyr  alone  ?  "      ''  But  one 


GKRAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  325 

person  only  will  go  with  me."  ''  Heaven  counsel 
thee,  mj  son,"  said  Erbin,  '^  and  may  many  attach 
themselves  to  thee  in  Loegyr."  Then  went  Geraint 
to  the  place  where  his  horse  was,  and  it  was 
equipped  with  foreign  armor,  heavy  and  shining. 
And  he  desired  Enid  to  mount  her  horse,  and  to 
ride  forward,  and  to  keep  a  long  way  before  him. 
''  And  whatever  thou  mayest  see,  and  whatever  thou 
mayest  hear  concerning  me,"  said  he,  ''  do  thou  not 
turn  back.  And  unless  I  speak  unto  thee,  say  not 
thou  one  word  either."  So  they  set  forward.  And 
he  did  not  choose  the  pleasantest  and  most  frequent- 
ed road,  but  that  which  was  the  wildest,  and  most 
beset  by  thieves  and  robbers  and  venomous  animals. 
And  they  came  to  a  high-road,  which  they  followed 
till  they  saw  a  vast  forest ;  and  they  saw  four  armed 
horsemen  come  forth  from  the  forest.  When  tlie 
armed  men  saw  them,  they  said  one  to  another, 
'^  Here  is  a  good  occasion  for  us  to  capture  two 
horses  and  armor,  and  a  lady  likewise  ;  for  this  we 
shall  have  no  difficulty  in  doing  against  yonder  sin- 
gle knight,  who  hangs  his  head  so  pensively  and 
heavily."  Enid  heard  this  discourse,  and  she  knew 
not  what  she  should  do  through  fear  of  Geraint, 
who  had  told  her  to  be  silent.  "•  The  vengeance  of 
Heaven  be  upon  me,"  said  she,  ''  if  I  would  not 
rather  receive  my  death  from  his  hand  than  from 
the  hand  of  any  other  ;  and  though  he  should  slay 
me,  yet  will  I  speak  to  him,  lest  I  should  liave  the 
jnisery  to  witness  his  death."     So  she  waited  for 

23 


326  THE    MABINOGEON. 

Geraiiit  until  he  came  near  to  her.  "  Lord,"  said 
she,  "  didst  thou  hear  the  words  of  those  men  con- 
cerning thee  ?  "  Then  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and 
looked  at  her  angrily.  "  Thou  hadst  only,"  said 
he,  "  to  hold  thy  peace,  as  I  bade  thee.  I  wish  but 
for  silence,  and  not  for  warning.  And  though  thou 
shouldst  desire  to  see  my  defeat  and  my  death  by  the 
hands  of  those  men,  yet  do  I  feel  no  dread."  Then 
the  foremost  of  them  couched  his  lance,  and  rushed 
upon  Geraint.  And  he  received  him,  and  that  not 
feebly.  But  he  let  the  thrust  go  by  him,  while  he 
struck  the  horseman  upon  the  centre  of  his  shield, 
in  such  a  manner  that  his  shield  was  split,  and  his 
armor  broken,  so  that  a  cubit's  length  of  the  sliaft 
of  Geraint's  lance  passed  through  his  body,  and  sent 
him  to  the  earth,  the  length  of  the  lance  over  his 
horse's  crupper.  Then  the  second  horseman  at- 
tacked him  furiously,  being  wroth  at  the  death  of 
his  companion.  But  with  one  thrust  Geraint  over- 
threw him  also,  and  killed  him  as  he  had  done  the 
other.  Then  the  third  set  upon  him,  and  he  killed 
him  in  like  manner.  And  thus  also  he  slew  the 
fourth.  Sad  and  sorrowful  was  the  maiden  as  she 
saw  all  this.  Geraint  dismounted  his  horse,  and 
took  the  arms  of  the  men  he  had  slain,  and  placed 
them  upon  their  saddles,  and  tied  together  the  reins 
of  their  horses ;  and  he  mounted  his  horse  again. 
"  Behold  what  thou  must  do,"  said  he  ;  "  take  the 
four  horses,  and  drive  them  before  thee,  and  proceed 
forward  as  I  bade  thee  just  now.     And  say  not  one 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  827 

word  unto  me,  unless  I  speak  first  unto  thee.  And 
I  declare  unto  Heaven,"  said  he,  ''  if  thou  doest  not 
thus,  it  will  be  to  thy  cost."  "  I  will  do  as  far  as  I 
can,  lord,"  said  she,  ''  according  to  thy  desire." 
So  the  maiden  went  forward,  keeping  in  advance 
of  Geraint,  as  he  had  desired  her ;  and  it  grieved 
him  as  much  as  his  wrath  would  permit,  to  see  a 
maiden  so  illustrious  as  she  having  so  much  trouble 
with  the  care  of  the  horses.  Then  they  reached  a 
wood,  and  it  was  both  deep  and  vast,  and  in  the 
wood  night  overtook  them.  "  Ah,  maiden,"  said 
he,  "  it  is  vain  to  attempt  proceeding  forward." 
''  Well,  lord,"  said  she,  "  whatever  thou  wishest, 
we  will  do.  "  It  will  be  best  for  us,"  he  answered, 
*''  to  rest  and  wait  for  the  day,  in  order  to  pursue 
our  journey."  ''-  That  will  we,  gladly,"  said  she. 
And  they  did  so.  Having  dismounted  himself,  he 
took  her  down  from  her  horse.  "  I  cannot  by  any 
means  refrain  from  sleep,  through  weariness,"  said 
he ;  ''  do  thou  therefore  watch  the  horses,  and 
sleep  not."  ''  I  will,  lord,"  said  she.  Then  he 
went  to  sleep  in  his  armor,  and  thus  passed  the 
night,  which  was  not  long  at  that  season.  And 
when  she  saw  the  dawn  of  day  appear,  she  looked 
around  her  to  see  if  he  were  waking,  and  therdiipon 
he  woke.  Then  he  arose,  and  said  unto  her,  ''  Take 
the  horses  and  ride  on,  and  keep  straight  on  as  thou 
didst  yesterday."  And  they  left  the  wood,  and 
they  came  to  an  open  country,  with  meadows  on 
one  hand,  and  mowers  mowing  the  meadows.     And 


328  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

there  was  a  river  before  them,  and  the  horses  bent 
down  and  drank  of  the  water.  And  they  went  up 
out  of  the  river  by  a  lofty  steep  ;  and  there  they  met 
a  slender  stripling  with  a  satchel  about  his  neck, 
afid  they  saw  that  there  was  something  in  the  satch- 
el, but  they  knew  not  what  it  was.  And  he  had  a 
small  blue  pitcher  in  his  hand,  and  a  bowl  on  the 
mouth  of  the  pitcher.  And  the  youth  saluted 
Geraint.  '' Heaven  prosper  thee!"  said  Geraint ; 
''  and  whence  dost  thou  come  ?  "  "I  come,"  said 
he,  ''  from  the  city  that  lies  before  thee.  My  lord," 
he  added,  "  will  it  be  displeasing  to  thee  if  I 
ask  whence  thou  comest  also  ?  "  "  By  no  means  ; 
through  yonder  wood  did  I  come."  "  Thou  camest 
not  through  the  wood  to-day."  "  No,"  he  replied  ; 
"we  were  in  the  wood  last  night."  "I  warrant," 
said  the  youth,  "  that  thy  condition  there  last  night 
was  not  the  most  pleasant,  and  that  thou  hadst 
neither  meat  nor  drink."  ''  No,  by  my  faith,"  said 
he.  "  Wilt  thou  follow  my  counsel,"  said  the  youth, 
''and  take  thy  meal  from  me?"  'HYliat  sort  of 
meal?"  he  inquired.  "  The  breakfast  which  is  sent 
for  yonder  mowers,  nothing  less  than  bread  and 
meat  and  wine ;  and  if  thou  wilt,  sir,  they  shall 
have  Tione  of  it."  "  I  Avill,"  said  he,  "  and  Heaven 
reward  thee  for  it." 

So  Geraint  alighted,  and  •  the  youth  took  the 
maiden  from  off  her  horse.  Then  they  washed, 
and  took  their  repast.  And  the  youth  cut  the 
bread  in  slices,  and  gave  them  drink,  and  served 


GEKAINT,    THE    SOJN'    OF    ERBIN.  329 

them  withal.  And  when  they  had  finished,  the 
youth  arose  and  said  to  Geraint,  "  My  lord,  with 
thy  permission,  I  will  now  go  and  fetch  some  food 
for  the  mowers."  "  Go  first  to  the  town,"  said  Ge- 
raint,  "  and  take  a  lodging  for  me  in  the  best  place 
that  tlioii  knowest,  and  the  most  commodious  one 
for  the  horses ;  and  take  thou  whichever  horse  and 
arms  thou  choosest,  in  payment  for  thy  service  and 
thy  gift."  "  Heaven  reward  thee,  lord!  "  said  the 
youth ;  "  and  this  would  be  ample  to  repay  services 
much  greater  than  those  I  have  rendered  unto  thee." 
And  to  the  town  went  the  youth,  and  he  took  the 
best  and  the  most  pleasant  lodgings  that  he  knew  ; 
and  after  that  he  went  to  the  palace,  having  the 
horse  and  armor  with  him,  and  proceeded  to  the 
place  where  the  earl  was,  and  told  him  all  his  ad- 
venture. "  I  go  now,  lord,"  said  he,  "  to  meet  the 
knight,  and  to  conduct  him  to  his  lodging."  ''  Go, 
gladly,"  said  the  earl ;  "  and  right  joyfully  shall  he 
be  received  here,  if  he  so  come."  And  the  youth 
went  to  meet  Geraint,  and  told  him  that  he  would 
be  received  gladly  by  the  earl  in  his  own  palace  ; 
but  he  would  go  only  to  his  lodgings.  And  he  had 
a  goodly  chamber,  in  which  was  plenty  of  straw  and 
drapery,  and  a  spacious  and  commodious  place  he 
had  for  the  horses  ;  and  the  youth  jorepared  for 
them  plenty  of  provender.  After  they  had  disar- 
rayed themselves,  Geraint  spoke  thus  to  Enid : 
"  Go,"  said  he,  "  to  the  other  side  of  the  chamber, 
and  come  not  to  this  side  of  the  house  ;  and  thou 

28=^ 


330  THE    MABINOGEON. 

mayst  call  to  thee  the  woman  of  the  houge,  if  thou 
wilt."  "  I  will  do,  lord,"  said  she,  "  as  thou  say- 
est."  Thereupon  the  man  of  the  house  came  to 
Geraint,  and  welcomed  him.  And  after  they  had 
eaten  and  drank,  Geraint  went  to  sleep,  and  so  did 
Enid  also. 

In  the  evening,  behold,  the  earl  came  to  visit 
Geraint,  and  his  twelve  honorable  knights  with  him. 
And  Geraint  rose  up  and  welcomed  him.  Then  they 
all  sat  down  according  to  their  precedence  in  honor. 
And  the  earl  conversed  with  Geraint,  and  inquired 
of  him  the  object  of  his  journey.  "  I  have  none," 
he  replied,  ''  but  to  seek  adventures  and  to  follow 
my  own  inclination."  Then  the  earl  cast  his  eye 
upon  Enid,  and  he  looked  at  her  steadfastly.  And 
he  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  maiden  fairer  or 
more  comely  than  she.  And  he  set  all  his  thoughts 
and  his  affections  upon  her.  Then  he  asked  of 
Geraint,  "  Have  I  thy  permission  to  go  and  converse 
with  yonder  maiden,  for  I  see  that  she  is  apart  from 
thee  ?  "  "  Thou  hast  it  gladly,"  said  he.  So  the 
Earl  went  to  the  place  where  the  maiden  was,  and 
spake  with  her.  "  Ah!  maiden,"  said  he,  ''it  can- 
not be  pleasant  to  thee  to  journey  with  yonder  man." 
"It  is  not  unpleasant  to  me,"  said  she.  ''Thou hast 
neither  youths  nor  maidens  to  serve  thee,"  said  he. 
"  Truly,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  more  pleasant  for  me 
to  follow  yonder  man,  than  to  be  served  by  youths 
and  maidens."  "  I  will  give  thee  good  counsel," 
said  he :  "  all  my  earldom  will  I  place  in  thy  pos- 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  331 

session,  if  thou  wilt  dwell  with  me."  "  That  will  I 
not,  by  Heaven,"  she  said ;  ''  yonder  man  was  the 
first  to  whom  my  faith  was  ever  pledged  ;  and  shall 
I  prove  inconstant  to  him  ?  "  "  Thou  art  in  the 
wrong,"  said  the  earl ;  ''  if  I  slay  the  man  yonder,  I 
can  keep  thee  with  me  as  long  as  I  choose  ;  and  when 
thou  no  longer  pleasest  me,  I  can  turn  thee  away. 
But  if  thou  goest  with  me  by  thy  own  good-will,  I 
protest  that  our  union  shall  continue  as  long  as  I 
remain  alive."  Then  she  pondered  those  words  of 
his,  and  she  considered  that  it  was  advisable  to  en- 
courage him  in  his  request.  "  Behold  then,  chief- 
tain, this  is  most  expedient  for  thee  to  do  to  save  me 
from  all  reproach  ;  come  here  to-morrow  and  take 
me  away  as  though  I  knew  nothing  thereof."  ''I 
will  do  so,"  said  he.  So  he  arose  and  took  his 
leave,  and  went  forth  with  his  attendants.  And  she 
told  not  then  to  Geraint  any  of  the  conversation 
which  she  had  had  with  the  earl,  lest  it  should 
rouse  his  anger,  and  cause  him  uneasiness  and  care. 
And  at  the  usual  hour  they  went  to  sleep.  And 
at  the  beginning  of  the  night  Enid  slept  a  little  ;  and 
at  midnight  she  arose,  and  placed  all  Geraint' s  armor 
together,  so  that  it  might  be  ready  to  put  on.  And 
although  fearful  of  her  errand,  she  came  to  the  side 
of  Geraint's  bed ;  and  she  spoke  to  him  softly  and 
gently,  saying,  "  My  lord,  arise,  and  clothe  thyself, 
for  these  were  the  words  of  the  earl  to  me,  and  his 
intention  concerning  me."  So  she  told  Geraint  all 
that  had  passed.     And  although  he  was  wroth  with 


332  THE    MABINOUKOX. 

her,  he  took  warning,  and  clothed  himself.  And 
she  lighted  a  candle  that  he  might  have  light  to  do 
so.  "  Leave  there  the  candle,"  said  he,  ''  and  desire 
the  man  of  the  house  to  come  here."  Then  she 
went,  and  the  man  of  the  house  came  to  him.  "  Dost 
thou  know  how  much  I  owe  thee  ?  "  asked  Geraint. 
"  I  think  thou  owest  but  little."  ''Take  the  three 
horses,  and  the  three  suits  of  armor."  ''  Heaven 
reward  thee.  Lord,"  said  he,  "  but  I  spent  not  the 
value  of  one  suit  of  armor  upon  thee."  "For  that 
reason,"  said  he,  "  thou  wilt  be  the  richer.  And 
now,  wilt  thou  come  to  guide  me  out  of  the  town  ?  " 
"  I  will  gladly,"  said  he  ;  "  and  in  which  direction 
dost  thou  intend  to  go ?  "  ''I  wish  to  leave  the 
town  by  a  different  way  from  that  by  which  I  entered 
it."  So  the  man  of  the  lodgings  accompanied  him 
as  far  as  he  desired.  Then  he  bade  the  maiden  to 
go  on  before  him,  and  she  did  so,  and  went  straight 
forward,  and  his  host  returned  home. 

And  Geraint  and  the  maiden  went  forward  along 
the  high-road.  And  as  they  journeyed  thus,  they 
heard  an  exceeding  loud  wailing  near  to  them. 
"  Stay  thou  here,"  said  he,  "  and  I  will  go  and  see 
what  is  the  cause  of  this  wailing."  *'  I  will,"  said 
she.  Then  he  went  forward  into  an  open  glade  that 
was  near  the  road.  And  in  the  glade  he  saw  two 
horses,  one  having  a  man's  saddle,  and  the  other  a 
woman's  saddle  upon  it.  And  behold  there  was  a 
knight  lying  dead  in  his  armor,  and  a  young  dam- 
sel in  a  riding-dress  standing  over  him  lamenting. 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  333 

"  Ah,  lady,"  said  Geraint,  "  what  hath  befallen 
thee?"  "Behold,"  she  answered,  "I  journeyed 
here  with  my  beloved  husband,  when  lo!  three  giants 
came  upon  us,  and  without  any  cause  in  the  world, 
they  slew  him."  "  Which  way  went  they  hence  ?  " 
said  Geraint.  ''  Yonder  by  the  high-road,"  she  re- 
plied. So  he  returned  to  Enid.  ''  Go,"  said  he, 
''  to  the  lady  that  is  below  yonder,  and  await  me 
there  till  I  come."  She  was  sad  when  he  ordered 
her  to  do  thus,  but  nevertheless  she  went  to  the 
damsel,  whom  it  was  ruth  to  hear,  and  she  felt  cer- 
tain that  Geraint  would  never  return. 

Meanwhile  Geraint  followed  the  giants,  and  over- 
took them.  And  each  of  them  was  greater  in 
stature  than  three  other  men,  and  a  huge  club  was 
on  the  shoulder  of  each.  Then  he  rushed  upon 
one  of  them,  and  thrust  his  lance  through  his  body. 
And  having  drawn  it  forth  again,  he  pierced  another 
of  them  through  likewise.  But  the  third  turned 
upon  him,  and  struck  him  with  his  club  so  that  he 
split  his  shield  and  crushed  his  shoulder.  But  Ge- 
raint drew  his  sword,  and  gave  the  giant  a  blow  on 
the  crown  of  his  head,  so  severe,  and  fierce,  and 
violent,  that  his  head  and  his  neck  were  split  down 
to  his  shoulders,  and  he  fell  dead.  So  Geraint  left 
him  thus,  and  returned  to  Enid.  And  when  he 
reached  the  place  where  she  was,  he  fell  down  life- 
less from  his  horse.  Piercing  and  loud  and  thrill- 
ing was  the  cry  that  Enid  uttered.  And  she  came 
and  stood  over  him  where  he  liad  fallen.     And  at 


834  THE    MABINOGEON. 

the  sound  of  her  cries  came  the  Earl  of  Limours, 
and  they  who  journeyed  with  him,  whom  her  lamen- 
tations brought  out  of  their  road.  And  the  earl 
said  to  Enid,  "  Alas,  lady,  what  hath  befallen  thee  ?  " 
"  Ah,  good  sir,"  said  she,  "  the  only  man  I  have 
loved,  or  ever  shall  love,  is  slain."  Then  he  said  to 
the  other,  ''And  what  is  the  cause  of  thy  grief?'' 
"They  have  slain  my  beloved  husband  also,"  said 
she.  "  And  who  was  it  that  slew  them  ?  "  "  Some 
giants,"  she  answered,  "  slew  my  best-beloved,  and 
the  other  knight  went  in  pursuit  of  them,  and  came 
back  in  the  state  thou  seest."  The  earl  caused  the 
knight  that  was  dead  to  be  buried,  but  he  thought 
that  there  still  remained  some  life  in  Geraint ;  and 
to  see  if  he  yet  would  live,  he  had  him  carried  with 
him  in  the  hollow  of  his  shield,  and  upon  a  bier. 
And  the  two  damsels  went  to  the  court ;  and  when 
they  arrived  there,  Geraint  was  placed  upon  a  little 
couch  in  front  of  the  table  that  was  in  the  hall. 
Then  they  all  took  off  their  travelling-gear,  and  the 
earl  besought  Enid  to  do  the  same,  and  to  clothe 
herself  in  other  garments.  "  I  will  not,  by  Heaven," 
said  she.  "  Ah,  lady,"  said  he,  "  be  not  so  sorrow- 
ful for  this  matter."  "  It  were  hard  to  persuade  me 
to  be  otherwise,"  said  she.  "  I  will  act  towards  thee 
in  such  wise  that  thou  needest  not  be  sorrowful, 
whether  yonder  knight  live  or  die.  Behold,  a  good 
earldom,  together  with  myself,  will  I  bestow  upon 
thee  ;  be  therefore  happy  and  joyful."  ''I  declare 
to  Heaven,"  said  she,  '*  that  henceforth  I  shall  never 


be  joyful  while  I  live.''  ^'  Come,"  said  he,  "  and 
eat."  "  No,  by  Heaven,  I  will  not."  "  But  by 
Heaven,  thou  shalt,"  said  he.  So  he  took  her  with 
him  to  the  table  against  her  will,  and  many  times 
desired  her  to  eat.  ''  I  call  Heaven  to  witness,"  said 
she,  "  that  I  will  not  eat  until  the  man  that  is  upon 
yonder  bier  shall  eat  likewise."  "  Thou  canst  not 
fulfil  that,"  said  the  earl ;  "  yonder  man  is  dead 
already."  "  I  will  prove  that  I  can,"  said  she. 
Then  he  oifered  her  a  goblet  of  liquor.  ''Drink  this 
goblet,"  he  said,  "  and  it  will  cause  thee  to  change 
thy  mind."  "  Evil  betide  me,"  she  answered,  "  if 
I  drink  aught  until  he  drink  also."  "  Truly," 
said  the  earl,  ''  it  is  of  no  more  avail  for  me  to  be 
gentle  with  thee  than  ungentle."  And  he  gave  her 
a  box  in  the  ear.  Thereupon  she  raised  a  loud  and 
piercing  shriek,  and  her  lamentations  were  much 
greater  than  they  had  been  before ;  for  she  consid- 
ered in  her  mind  that,  had  Geraint  been  alive,  he 
durst  not  have  struck  her  thus.  But,  behold,  at  the 
sound  of  her  cry,  Geraint  revived  from  his  swoon, 
and  he  sat  up  on  the  bier ;  and  finding  his  sword  in 
the  hollow  of  his  shield,  he  rushed  to  the  place 
where  the  earl  was,  and  struck  him  a  fiercely- 
wounding,  severely-venomous,  and  sternly-smiting 
blow  upon  the  crown  of  his  head,  so  that  he  clove 
him  in  twain,  imtil  his  sword  was  staid  by  the  table. 
Then  all  left  the  board  and  fled  away.  And  this 
was  not  so  much  through  fear  of  the  living,  as 
through  the  dread  they  felt  at  seeing  the  dead  man 


oo(j  THE    ilABlNOGEOX. 

rise  up  to  slay  tliem.  And  Geraint  looked  upon 
Enid,  and  lie  was  grieved  for  two  causes ;  one  was 
to  see  that  Enid  had  lost  her  color  and  her  wonted 
aspect ;  and  the  other,  to  know  that  she  was  in  the 
right.  "  Lady,"  said  he,  "  knowest  thou  where  our 
horses  are  ?  "  ''I  know,  lord,  where  thy  horse  is," 
she  replied,  "  but  I  know  not  where  is  the  other. 
Thy  horse  is  in  the  house  yonder."  So  he  went  to 
the  house,  and  brought  forth  his  horse,  and  mounted 
him,  and  took  up  Enid,  and  placed  her  upon  the 
horse  with  him.  And  he  rode  forward.  And  their 
road  lay  between  two  hedges  ;  and  the  night  was 
gaining  on  the  day.  And  lo  !  they  saw  behind  them 
the  shafts  of  spears  betwixt  them  and  the  sky,  and 
they  heard  the  tramping  of  horses,  and  the  noise  of 
a  host  approaching.  "  I  hear  something  following 
us,"  said  he,  "  and  I  will  put  thee  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hedge.'  And  thus  he  did.  And  thereupon, 
behold,  a  knight  pricked  towards  him,  and  couched 
his  lance.  When  Enid  saw  this,  she  cried  out,  say- 
ing, "  0  chieftain^  whoever  thou  art,  what  renown 
wilt  thou  gain  by  slaying  a  dead  man  ? "  ''0 
Heaven  !  "  said  he,  ''  is  it  Geraint  ?  "  "  Yes,  in 
truth,"  said  she;,  ''and  who 'art  thou?"  ''I  am 
Gwiffert  Petit,"  said  he,  "  thy  husband's  ally,  com- 
ing to  thy  assistance,  for  I  heard  that  thou  wast  in 
trouble.  Come  with  me  to  the  court  of  a  son-in-law 
of  my  sister,  which  is  near  here,  and  thou  shalt  have 
the  best  medical  assistance  in  tlie  kingdom."  "  1 
will  do  so  gladly,"  ?aid  Geraint.     And   Enid  was 


GERAINT,    THE    SON    OF    ERBIN.  337 

placed  upon  the  horse  of  one  of  Gwiffert's  squires, 
and  they  went  for\Yard  to  the  baron's  palace.  And 
they  were  received  there  with  gladness,  and  they 
niet^with  hospitality  and  attention.  Tlie  next  morn- 
ing they  went  to  seek  physicians ;  and  it  was  not 
long  before  they  came,  and  they  attended  Geraint 
until  he  was  perfectly  w^ell.  And  while  Geraint 
was  under  medical  care,  Gwiffert  caused  his  armor 
to  bo  repaired,  until  it  w^as  as  good  as  it  had  ever 
been.  And  they  remained  there  a  month  and  a  fort- 
night. Then  they  separated,  and  Geraint  went  to- 
w^ards  his  own  dominions,  and  thenceforth  he  reigned 
prosperously,  and  his  warlike  fame  and  splendor 
lasted  with  renown  and  honor  both  to  him  and  to 
Enid,*  from  that  time  forward. 

=*  Throughout  the  broad  and  varied  region  of  romance,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  character  of  greater  simplicity  and  truth  than  that 
of  Enid,  the  daughter  of  Earl  Ynywl.  Conspicuous  for  her  beauty 
and  noble  bearing,  we  are  at  a  loss  whether  more  to  admire  the 
patience  with  which  she  bore  all  the  hardships  she  was  destined  to  ' 
undergo,  or  the  constancy  and  affection  which  finally  achieved  the 
triumph  she  so  richly  deserved. 

The  character  of  Enid  is  admirably  sustained  through  the  whole 
tale ;  and  as  it  is  more  natural,  because  less  overstrained,  so  perhaps 
it  is  even  more  touching,  than  that  of  Griselda,  over  which,  however, 
Chaucer  has  thro^vn  a  charm  that  leads  us  to  forget  the  improbability 
of  her  story. 


29 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

PWYLL,  PRINCE   OF  DYVED. 

Once  upon  a  time  Pwyll  was  at  Narbertli,  his 
chief  palace,  where  a  feast  had  been  prepared  for 
him,  and  with  him  was  a  great  host  of  men.  And 
after  the  first  meal  Pwyll  arose  to  walk ;  and  he 
went  to  the  top  of  a  mound  that  was  above  the 
palace,  and  was  called  Gorsedd  Arberth.  "  Lord," 
said  one  of  the  court,  '^  it  is  peculiar  to  the  mound 
that  whosoever  sits  upon  it  cannot  go  thence  without 
either  receiving  Avounds  or  blows,  or  else  seeing  a 
wonder."  "  I  fear  not  to  receive  wounds  or  blows," 
said  Pwyll ;  ''  but  as  to  the  wonder,  gladly  would  I 
see  it.   I  will  therefore  go  and  sit  upon  the  mound." 

And  upon  the  mound  he  sat.  And  while  he  sat 
there,  they  saw  a  lady,  on  a  pure  white  horse  of 
large  size,  with  a  garment  of  shining  gold  around 
her,  coming  along  the  highway  that  led  from  the 
mound.  "  My  men,"  said  Pwyll,  "  is  there  any 
among  you  who  knows  yonder  lady  ?  "  "  There  is 
not,  lord,"  said  they.  ''  Go  one  of  you  and  meet 
her,  that  we  may  know  who  she  is."  And  one  of 
them  arose,  and  as  he  came  upon  the  road  to  meet 
her,  she  passed  by;  and  he  followed  as  fast  as  he 


rWYLL,    PRINCE    OF    DYVED.  339 

could,  being  on  foot,  and  tlie  greater  was  his  speed, 
tlie  further  was  she  from  him.  And  when  he  saw 
that  it  profited  him  nothing  to  follow  her,  ho 
returned  to  Pwyll,  and  said  unto  him,  "  Lord,  it  is 
idle  for  any  one  in  the  world  to  follow  her  on  foot.'^ 
''  Verily,"  said  PwjU,  "  go  unto  the  palace,  and 
take  the  fleetest  horse  that  thou  seest,  and  go  after 
her." 

And  he  took  a  horse  and  went  forward.  And  he 
came  to  an  open,  level  plain,  and  put  spurs  to  his 
horse ;  and  the  more  he  urged  his  liorse,  the  further 
was  she  from  him.  And  he  returned  to  the  place 
where  Pwyll  was,  and  said,  ''  Lord,  it  will  avail 
nothing  for  any  one  to  follow  yonder  lady.  I  know 
of  no  horse  in  these  realms  swifter  than  this,  and  it 
availed  me  not  to  pursue  her."  "  Of  a  truth,"  said 
Pwyll,  ^'  there  must  be  some  illusion  hero  ;  let  us 
go  towards  the  palace."  So  to  the  palace  they  vs^ent, 
and  spent  the  day. 

And  the  next  day  they  amused  themselves  until 
it  was  time  to  go  to  meat.  And  when  meat  was 
ended,  Pwyll  said,  "  Where  are  the  hosts  that  went 
yesterday  to  the  top  of  the  mound  ?  "  "  Behold, 
lord,  we  are  here,"  said  they.  "  Let  us  go,"  said 
lie,  ^' to  the  mound,  and  sit  there.  And  do  thou," 
said  he  to  the  page  who  tended  his  horse,  ''  saddle 
my  horse  well,  and  hasten  with  him  to  the  road, 
and  bring  also  my  spurs  with  thee."  And  the 
youth  did  thus.  And  they  went  and  sat  upon  the 
mound  ;  and  ere  they  had  been  there  but  a  short 


340  THE     KABIXOGEON. 

time,  thej  beheld  the  ladj  coming  by  the  same  road, 
and  in  the  same  manner,  and  at  the  same  pace. 
"  Young  man,"  said  Pwyll,  "  I  see  the  lady  com- 
ing ;  give  me  my  horse."  And  before  he  liad 
mounted  his  horse  she  passed  him.  And  he  turned 
after  her  and  followed  her.  And  he  let  his  horse  go 
bounding  playfully,  and  thought  that  he  should  soon 
come  up  with  her.  But  he  came  no  nearer  to  her 
than  at  first.  Then  he  urged  his  horse  to  his 
utmost  speed,  yet  he  found  that  it  availed  not. 
Then  said  Pwyll,  "  0-  maiden,  for  the  sake  of  him 
whom  thou  best  lovest,  stay  for  me."  "  I  will  stay 
gladly,"  said  she  ;  "  and  it  were  better  for  thy  horse 
hadst  thou  asked  it  long  since."  So  the  maiden 
stopped;  and  she. threw  back  that  part  of  her  head- 
dress which  covered  her  face.  Then  he  thought 
that  the  beauty  of  all  the  maidens  and  all  the 
ladies  that  he  had  ever  seen  was  as  nothing  com- 
pared to  her  beauty.  "  Lady,"  he  said,  "  wilt  thou 
tell  me  aught  concerning  thy  purpose  ?  "  ^'  I  will 
tell  thee,"  said  she  ;  "  my  chief  quest  was  to  see 
thee."  "Truly,"  said  Pwyll,  "this  is  to  me  the 
most  pleasing  quest  on  which  thou  couldst  have 
come  ;  and  wilt  thou  tell  me  who  thou  art  ?  "  "I 
will  tell  thee,  lord,"  said  she.  "I  am  Rhiannon, 
the  daughter  of  Heveydd,  and  they  sought  to  give 
me  to  a  husband  against  my  will.  But  no  hus- 
band would  I  have,  and  that  because  of  my  love 
for  thee ;  neither  will  I  yet  have  one,  unless  thou 
reject  me ;   and  hither  have  I  come  to  hear  thy 


PAVYLL,    TKINCE    OF    DYTED.  341 

Bj  lieaven,"  said  Pwyll,  ''  behold  this 
is  my  answer.  If  I  might  choose  among  all  tlie 
ladies  and  damsels  in  the  world,  thee  would  I 
clioose."  "  Verily,"  said  she,  ''  if  thou  art  thus 
minded,  make  a  pledge  to  meet  me  ere  I  am  given 
to  another."  ''  The  sooner  I  may  do  so,  the  more 
pleasing  will  it  be  to  me,"  said  Pwyll ;  '-  and 
wheresoever  thou  wilt,  there  will  I  meet  with  thee." 
"- 1  will  that  thou  meet  me.  this  day  twelvemonth  at 
the  palace  of  Heveydd."  "  Gladly,"  said  he,  ''  will 
I  keep  this  tryst."  So  they  parted,  and  he  went 
back  to  his  hosts,  and  to  them  of  his  household. 
And  whatsoever  questions  they  asked  him  respecting 
the  damsel,  he  always  turned  the  discourse  upon 
other  matters. 

And  when  a  year  from  that  time  was  gone, 
he  caused  a  hundred  knights  to  equip  themselves, 
and  to  go  with  him  to  the  palace  of  Heveydd.  And 
he  came  to  the  palace,  and  there  was  great  joy  con- 
cerning him,  with  much  concourse  of  people,  and 
great  rejoicing,  and  vast  preparations  for  his  coming. 
And  the  whole  court  was  placed  under  his  orders. 

And  the  hall  was  garnished,  and  they  went  to 
meat,  and  thus  did  they  sit :  Heveydd  was  on  one 
side  of  Pwyll,  and  Rhiannon  on  the  other  ;  and  all 
the  rest  according  to  their  rank.  And  they  ate  and 
feasted,  and  talked  one  with  another.  And  at  the 
beginning  of  the  carousal  after  the  meat,  there 
entered  a  tall,  auburn-haired  youth,  of  royal  bear- 
ing, clothed  in  a  garment  of  satin.     And  when  ho 

29* 


342  THE     MABINOGEON, 

came  into  the  hall,  he  saluted  Pwyll  and  his  com- 
panions. "  The  greeting  of  Heaven  he  unto  thee,'* 
said  Pwyll;  "come  thou  and  sit  down."  "Nay," 
said  he,  "  a  suitor  am  I,  and  I  will  do  my  errand." 
"  Do  so,  willingly,"  said  Pwyll.  "  Lord,"  said  he, 
"  my  errand  is  unto  thee,  and  it  is  to  crave  a  hoon 
of  thee  that  I  come."  "  What  hoon  soever  thou 
may  est  ask  of  me,  so  far  as  I  am  ahle,  thou  shalt 
have."  "  Ah  !  "  said  Rhiannon,  "  w^herefore  didst 
thou  give  that  answer  ?  "  "  Has  he  not  given 
it  before  the  presence  of  these  nobles  ?  "  asked  the 
youth.  "  My  soul,"  said  Pwyll,  "  what  is  the  boon 
thou  askest  ?  "  "  The  lady  whom  best  I  love  is  to 
be  thy  bride  this  night ;  I  come  to  ask  her  of  thee, 
with  the  feast  and  the  banquet  that  are  in  this 
place."  And  Pwyll  was  silent,  because  of  the 
promise  which  he  had  given.  "  Be  silent  as  long 
as  thou  wilt,"  said  Rhiannon,  "  never  did  man 
make  worse  use  of  his  wits  than  thou  hast  done." 
"  Lady,"  said  he,  "  I  knew  not  who  he  was." 
"  Behold,  this  is  the  man  to  whom  they  would  have 
given  me  against  my  will,"  said  she;  "  and  he 
is  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  a  man  of  great  power  and 
wealth,  and  because  of  the  word  thou  hast  spoken, 
bestow  me  upon  him,  lest  shame  befall  thee." 
"  Lady,"  said  he,  "I  understand  not  thy  answer ; 
never  can  I  do  as  thou  sayest."  "  Bestow  me  upon 
him,"  said  she,  "  and  I  will  cause  that  I  shall  never 
be  his."  "  By  wdiat  means  will  that  be  ?  "  asked 
Pwyll.     Then  she  told  him  the  thought  that  was  in 


PWYLL,    rKINCE    OF    DYVED.  313 

hor  mind.  And  they  talked  long  together.  Then 
Gawl  said,  "  Lord,  it  is  meet  that  I  have  an  answer 
to  my  request."  "  As  much  of  that  thou  hast  asked 
as  it  is  in  mj  power  to  give,  thou  shalt  have," 
replied  Pwyll.  ^'  Mj  soul,"  said  Rhiannon  unto 
Gawl,  ''  as  for  the  feast  and  the  hanquet  that  are 
here,  I  have  hestowed  them  upon  the  men  of  Djved, 
and  the  household  and  the  warriors  that  are  with 
us.  These  can  I  not  suffer  to  be  given  to  any.  In 
a  year  from  to-night,  a  banquet  shall  be  prepared  for 
thee  in  this  palace,  that  I  may  become  thy  bride." 

So  Gawl  went  forth  to  las  possessions,  and  Pwyll 
went  also  back  to  Dyved.  And  they  both  spent  that 
year  until  it  was  the  time  for  the  feast  at  the  palace 
of  Heveydd.  Then  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  set  out 
to  the  feast  that  was  prepared  for  him ;  and  he  came 
to  the  palace,  and  was  received  there  with  rejoicing. 
Pwyll,  also,  the  chief  of  Dyved,  came  to  the 
orchard  with  a  hundred  knights,  as  Rhiannon  had 
commanded  him.  And  Pwyll  was  clad  in  coarse 
and  ragged  garments,  and  wore  large,  clumsy  old 
shoes  upon  his  feet.  And  wlien  he  knew  that  the 
carousal  after  the  meat  had  begun,  he  went  toward 
the  hall ;  and  Avhen  he  came  into  the  hall  he  saluted 
Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  and  his  company,  both  men 
and  women.  "  Heaven  prosper  thee,"  said  Gawl, 
''and  friendly  greeting  be  unto  thee!"  "Lord," 
said  he,  "  may  Heaven  reward  thee  !  I  have  an 
errand  unto  thee."  "  Welcome  be  thine  errand, 
and  if  thou  ask  of  me  that  which  is  right,  thou 


344  THE     MABINOGEOX. 

shalt  have  it  gladly."  ''  It  is  fitting,"  answered 
he ;  "I  crave  but  from  want,  and  the  boon  I  ask  is 
to  have  this  small  bag  that  thou  sccst  filled  ^Yith 
meat."  "  A  request  ^Yithin  reason  is  this,"  said  he, 
"  and  gladly  shalt  thou  have  it.  Bring  him  food." 
A  great  number  of  attendants  arose  and  began  to 
fill  the  bag ;  but  for  all  they  put  into  it,  it  was  no 
fuller  than  at  first.  ''  My  soul,"  said  Gawl,  "  will 
thy  bag  ever  be  full  ?  "  '^  It  will  not,  I  declare  to 
Heaven,"  said  he,  "  for  all  that  may  be  put  into  it, 
unless  one  possessed  of  lands,  and  domains,  and 
treasure,  shall  arise  and  tread  down  with  both  his 
feet  the  food  that  is  within  the  bag,  and  shall  say, 
'  Enough  has  been  put  therein.'  "  Then  said  Rhi- 
aimon  unto  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  "  Rise  up  quick- 
ly." "I  will  willingly  arise,"  said  he.  So  he  rose 
up,  and  put  his  two  feet  into  the  bag.  And  Pwyll 
turned  up  the  sides  of  the  bag,  so  that  Gawl  was 
over  his  head  in  it.  And  he  shut  it  up  quickly,  and 
slipped  a  knot  upon  the  thongs,  and  blew  his  horn. 
And  thereupon,  behold,  his  knights  came  down  upon 
the  palace.  And  they  seized  all  the  host  that  had 
come  with  Gawl,  and  cast  them  into  his  own  prison. 
And  Pwyll  threw  off  his  rags,  and  his  old  shoes, 
and  his  tattered  array.  And  as  they  came  in,  every 
one  of  Pwyll's  knights  struck  a  blow  upon  the  bag, 
and  asked,  "  What  is  here  ?  "  "  A  badger,"  said 
they.  And  in  this  manner  they  played,  eacli  of 
them  striking  the  bag,  either  with  liis  foot  or  with  a 
staff.     And  thus  played  they  with  the  bag.     And 


PWYLL,   PKINCE    OF    DYVED.  345 

tlien  was  the  game  of  Badger  in  the  Bag  first 
played. 

''  Lord,"  said  the  man  in  the  bag,  "  if  thou 
wouldst  but  hear  me,  I  merit  not  to  be  slain  in  a 
bag."  Said  Heveydd,  "  Lord,  he  speaks  truth ;  it 
Avere  fitting  that  thou  listen  to  him,  for  he  deserves 
not  this."  "  Verily,"  said  Pwyll,  "  I  Avill  do  thy 
counsel  concerning  him."  "  Behold,  this  is  my 
counsel  then,"  said  Rhiannon.  "  Thou  art  now  in 
a  position  in  which  it  behooves  thee  to  satisfy  suit- 
ors and  minstrels.  Let  him  give  unto  them  in  thy 
stead,  and  take  a  pledge  from  him  that  he  will  never 
seek  to  revenge  that  which  has  been  done  to  him. 
And  this  will  be  punishment  enough."  "  I  will  do 
this  gladly,"  said  the  man  in  the  bag.  "  And 
gladly  will  I  accept  it,"  said  Pwyll,  ''  since  it  is  the 
counsel  of  Heveydd  and  Rhiannon.  Seek  thyself 
sureties."  "  We  will  be  for  him,"  said  Heveydd, 
"  until  his  men  be  free  to  answer  for  him."  And 
upon  this  he  was  let  out  of  the  bag,  and  his  liege- 
men were  liberated.  ''N^erily,  lord,"  said  Gawl, 
"  I  am  greatly  hurt,  and  I  have  many  bruises. 
With  thy  leave  I  will  go  forth.  I  will  leave  nobles 
in  my  stead  to  answer  for  me  in  all  that  thou  shalt 
require."  "  Willingly,"  said  Pwyll,  "  mayest  thou 
do  thus."     So  Gawl  went  to  his  own  possessions. 

And  the  hall  was  set  in  order  for  Pwyll  and  the 
men  of  his  host,  and  for  them  also  of  the  palace, 
and  they  went  to  the  tables  and  sat  down.  And  as 
they  had  sat  that  time  twelvemonth,  so  sat  they  that 


346  THE     MABIXOGEOX. 

niglit.  And  tlicj  ato  and  feasted,  and  spent  the 
night  in  mirth  and  tranquillity.  And  the  time  came 
tliat  thcj  should  sleep,  and  Pwyll  and  Ehiannon 
went  to  their  chamber. 

And  next  morning  at  break  of  day,  ''  My  lord," 
said  Rhiannon,  "  arise  and  begin  to  give  thy  gifts ' 
unto  the  minstrels.  Refuse  no  one  to-day  tliat  may 
claim  thy  bounty."  "  Thus  shall  it  be  gladly,"  said 
Pwyll,  "  both  to-day  and  every  day  while  the  feast 
shall  last."  So  Pwyll  arose,  and  he  caused  silence 
to  be  proclaimed,  and  desired  all  the  suitors  and 
minstrels  to  show  and  to  point  out  what  gifts  they 
desired.  And  this  being  done,  the  feast  went  on, 
and  he  denied  no  one  while  it  lasted.  And  when 
the  feast  was  ended,  Pwyll  said  unto  Pleveydd, 
''  My  lord,  with  thy  permission,  I  will  set  out  for 
Dyved  to-morrow."  "  Certainly,"  said  Heveydd ; 
''  may  Heaven  prosper  thee  !  Fix  also  a  time  Avhen 
Rhiannon  shall  follow  thee."  ''  By  Heaven,"  said 
Pwyll,  "  we  will  go  hence  together."  "  Wiliest  thou 
this,  lord  ? "  said  Heveydd.  "  Yes,  lord,"  an- 
swered Pwyll. 

And  the  next  day  they  set  forward  towards  Dyved, 
and  journeyed  to  the  palace  of  Narberth,  where  a 
feast  was  made  ready  for  them.  And  there  came  to 
them  great  numbers  of  the  chief  men  and  the  most 
noble  ladies  of  the  land,  and  of  these  there  were 
none  to  whom  Rhiannon  did  not  give  some  rich  gift, 
either  a  bracelet,  or  a  riug,  or  a  precious  stone. 
And  they  ruled  the  land  prosperously  that  year  and 
the  next. 


.    CHAPTER    IX. 

BKANWEN,   THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR. 

Bendigeid  Vran,  the  son  of  Llvr,  was  the  crowned 
king  of  this  island,  and  he  was  exalted  from  the 
crown  of  London.  And  one  afternoon  he  was  at 
Harlech,  in  Ardudwy,  at  his  court ;  and  he  sat 
upon  the  rock  of  Harlech,  looking  over  the  sea. 
And  with  him  were  his  brother,  Manawyddan,  the 
son  of  Lljr,  and  his  brothers  by  the  mother's  side, 
Nissyen  and  Evnissyen,  and  many  nobles  likewise, 
as  was  fitting  to  see  around  a  king.  His  two  broth- 
ers by  the  mother's  side  were  the  sons  of  Euroswydd, 
and  one  of  these  youths  was  a  good  youth,  and  of 
gentle  nature,  and  would  make  peace  between  his 
kindred,  and  cause  his  family  to  be  friends  when 
their  wrath  was  at  the  highest,  and  this  one  was 
Nissyen ;  but  tlie  other  would  cause  strife  between 
his  two  brothers  when  they  were  most  at  peace. 
And  as  they  sat  thus,  they  beheld  thirteen  ships 
coming  from  the  south  of  Ireland,  and  making  to- 
wards them  ;  and  they  came  with  a  swift  motion, 
the  wind  being  behind  them  ;  and  they  neared  them 


348  THE    MAIJINOGEON. 

rapidly.  '  I  see  ships  afar,"  said  the  king,  "  com- 
ing swiftly  towards  the  land.  Command  the  men 
of  the  court  that  they  equip  themselves,  and  go  and 
learn  their  intent."  So  the  men  equipped  them- 
selves, and  went  down  towards  them.  And  when 
they  saw  the  ships  near,  certain  were  they  that  they 
had  never  seen  ships  better  furnished.  Beautiful 
flags  of  satin  were  upon  them.  And,  behold,  one 
of  the  ships  outstripped  the  others,  and  they  saw  a 
shield  lifted  np  above  the  side  of  the  ship,  and  the 
point  of  the  shield  was  upwards,  in  token  of  peace. 
And  the  men  drew  near,  that  they  might  hold  con- 
verse. Then  they  put  out  boats,  and  came  toward 
the  land.  And  they  saluted  the  king.  Now  the 
king  could  hear  them  from  the  place  where  he  was 
upon  the  rock  above  their  heads.  "Heaven  prosper 
you,"  said  he,  "  and  be  ye  welcome  !  To  whom  do 
these  ships  belong,  and  who  is  the  chief  amongst 
you  ?  "  "  Lord,"  said  they,  "  Matholch,  king  of 
Ireland,  is  here,  and  these  ships  belong  to  him." 
"  Wherefore  comes  he  ? "  asked  the  king,  "  and 
will  he  come  to  the  land  ?  "  "  He  is  a  suitor  nnto 
thee,  lord,"  said  they,  "  and  he  will  not  land  unless 
he  have  his  boon."  "  And  what  may  that  be  ? " 
inquired  the  king.  "  He  desires  to  ally  himself, 
lord,  with  thee,"  said  they,  "  and  he  comes  to  ask 
Branwen,  the  daughter  of  Llyr,  that,  if  it  seem  well 
to  thee,  the  Island  of  the  Mighty*  may  be  leagued 

^  The  Island  of  the  Mighty  is  one  of  the  many  names  bestowed 
upon  Britain  by  the  "Welsh. 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.      349 

with  Ireland,  and  both  become  more  powerful." 
''  Verilj,"  said  he,  "  let  him  come  to  land,  and  we 
will  take  counsel  thereupon."  And  this  answer  was 
brought  to  Matholch.  ''  I  will  go  Avillingly,"  said 
he.  So  he  landed,  and  they  received  him  joyfully  ; 
and  great  was  the  throng  in  the  palace  that  night, 
between  his  hosts  and  those  of  the  court ;  and  next 
day  they  took  counsel,  and  they  resolved  to  bestow 
Branwen  upon  Matholch.  Now  she  was  one  of  the 
three  chief  ladies  of  this  island,  and  she  was  the 
fairest  damsel  in  the  world. 

And  they  fixed  upon  Aberfraw  as  the  place  where 
she  should  become  his  bride.  And  they  went 
thence,  and  towards  Aberfraw  the  hosts  proceeded, 
Matholch  and  his  host  in  their  ships,  Bendigeid 
Vran  and  his  host  by  land,  until  they  came  to 
Aberfraw.  And  at  Aberfraw  they  began  the  feast, 
and  sat  down.  And  thus  sat  they  :  the  king  of  the 
Island  of  the  Mighty  and  Manawyddan,  the  son  of 
Llyr,  on  one  side,  and  Matholch  on  the  other  side, 
and  Branwen,  the  daughter  of  Llyr,  beside  him. 
And  they  were  not  within  a  house,  but  under  tents. 
No  house  could  ever  contain  Bendigeid  Yran.  And 
they  began  the  banquet,  and  caroused  and  dis- 
coursed. And  when  it  was  more  pleasing  to  them 
to  sleep  than  to  carouse,  they  went  to  rest,  and 
Branwen  became  Matholch's  bride. 

And  next  day  they  arose,  and  all  they  of  the 
court,  and  the  officers  began  to  equip,  and  to  range 

30 


350  THE   MABINOGEON. 

the  horses  and  the  attendantSj  and  they  ranged 
them  in  order  as  far  as  the  sea. 

And,  behold,  one  day  Evnissyen,  the  quarrelsome 
man,  of  whom  it  is  spoken  above,  came  by  chance 
into  the  place  where  the  horses  of  Matholch  were, 
and  asked  whose  horses  they  might  be.  "  They  are 
the  horses  of  Matholch,  king  of  Ireland,  who  is  mar- 
ried to  Branwen,  thy  sister ;  his  horses  are  they." 
"  And  is  it  thus  they  have  done  with  a  maiden  such 
as  she,  and  moreover  my  sister,  bestowing  her  with- 
out my  consent  ?  They  could  have  offered  no  great- 
er insult  to  me  than  this,"  said  he.  And  thereupon 
he  rushed  under  the  horses,  and  cut  off  their  lips  at 
the  teeth,  and  their  ears  close  to  their  heads,  and 
their  tails  close  to  their  backs ;  and  he  disfigured  the 
horses,  and  rendered  them  useless. 

And  they  came  with  these  tidings  unto  Matholch, 
saying  that  the  horses  were  disfigured  and  injured, 
so  that  not  one  of  them  could  ever  be  of  any  use 
again.  "  Verily,  lord,"  said  one,  "  it  was  an  insult 
unto  thee,  and  as  such  was  it  meant."  "  Of  a  truth, 
it  is  a  marvel  to  me  that,  if  they  desire  to  insult  me, 
they  should  have  given  me  a  maiden  of  such  high 
rank,  and  so  much  beloved  of  her  kindred,  as  they 
have  done."  "  Lord,"  said  another,  "  thou  seest 
that  thus  it  is,  and  there  is  nothing  for  thee  to  do 
but  to  go  to  thy  ships."  And  thereupon  towards 
his  ships  he  set  out. 

And  tidings  came  to  Bendigeid  Vran  that  Ma- 
tholch was  quitting  the  court  without  asking  leave, 


BKANWEX,    THE    DAUGHTER    OE    LLYU.  351 

and  messengers  were  sent  to  inquire  of  him  wherefore 
he  did  so.  And  the  messengers  that  went  were  Iddic, 
the  son  of  Anarawd,  and  Heveyd  Hir.  And  these 
overtook  him,  and  asked  of  him  what  he  designed 
to  do,  and  wherefore  he  went  forth.  ''  Of  a  truth," 
said  he,  '^  if  I  had  known,  I  had  not  come  hither. 
I  have  been  altogether  insulted  ;  no  one  had  ever 
worse  treatment  than  I  have  had  here."  "  Truly, 
lord,  it  was  not  the  will  of  any  that  are  of  the 
court,"  said  they,  ''  nor  of  any  that  are  of  the 
council,  that  thou  shouldst  have  received  this  in- 
sult ;  and  as  thou  hast  been  insulted,  the  dishonor 
is  greater  unto  Bendigeid  Yran  than  unto  thee." 
"  Yerily,"  said  he,  ''  I  think  so.  Nevertheless,  he 
cannot  recall  the  insult."  These  men  returned  with 
that  answer  to  the  place  where  Bendigeid  Yran  was, 
and  they  told  him  what  reply  Matholch  had  given 
them.  "  Truly,"  said  he,  "  there  are  no  means  by 
which  we  may  prevent  his  going  away  at  enmity 
with  us  that  we  will  not  take."  "  Well,  lord,"  said 
they,  ''  send  after  him  another  embassy."  "  I  will 
do  so,"  said  he.  "  Arise,  Manawyddan,  son  of 
Llyr,  and  Heveyd  Hir,  and  go  after  him,  and  tell 
him  that  he  shall  have  a  sound  horse  for  every  one 
that  has  been  injured.  And  beside  that,  as  an 
atonement  for  the  insult,  he  shall  have  a  staff  of 
silver  as  large  and  as  tall  as  himself,  and  a  plate  of 
gold  of  the  breadth  of  his  face.  And  show  unto 
him  who  it  was  that  did  this,  and  that  it  was  done 
against  my  will ;   but  that  he  who  did  it  is  my 


352  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

brother,  and  therefore  it  would  be  hard  for  me  to 
put  him  to  death.  And  let  him  come  and  meet 
me,"  said  he,  "  and  we  will  make  peace  in  any  way 
he  may  desire." 

The  embassy  went  after  Matholch,  and  told  him 
all  these  sayings  in  a  friendly  manner  ;  and  he  lis- 
tened thereunto.  "  Men,"  said  he,  "I  will  take 
counsel."  So  to  the  council  he  went.  And  in  the 
council  they  considered  that,  if  they  should  refuse 
this,  they  were  likely  to  have  more  shame  rather 
than  to  obtain  so  great  an  atonement.  They  re- 
solved, therefore,  to  accept  it,  and  they  returned  to 
the  court  in  peace. 

Then  the  pavilions  and  the  tents  were  set  in  order, 
after  the  fashion  of  a  hall ;  and  they  went  to  meat, 
and  as  they  had  sat  at  the  beginning  of  the  feast  so 
sat  they  there.  And  Matholch  and  Bendigeid  Vran 
began  to  discourse  ;  and,  behold,  it  seemed  to  Ben- 
digeid Yran,  while  they  talked,  that  Matholch  was 
not  so  cheerful  as  he  had  been  before.  And  he 
thought  that  the  chieftain  might  be  sad  because  of 
the  smallness  of  the  atonement  which  he  had  for 
the  wrong  that  had  been  done  him.  "0  man,"  said 
Bendigeid  Yran,  "  thou  dost  not  discourse  to-night 
so  cheerfully  as  thou  wast  wont.  And  if  it  be  be- 
cause of  the  smallness  of  the  atonement,  thou  shalt 
add  thereunto  whatsoever  thou  mayest  choose,  and 
to-morrow  I  will  pay  thee  for  the  horses."  "Lord," 
said  he,  "  Heaven  reward  thee  !  "  "  And  I  will  en- 
hance the  atonement,"  said  Bendigeid  Vran,  "  for 


BRANVYEN,    THE    DAUGHTER    OF    LLYR.  353 

I  will  give  unto  thee  a  caldron,  the  property  of 
which  is,  that  if  one  of  thy  men  be  slain  to-day,  and 
be  cast  therein,  to-morrow  he  will  be  as  well  as  ever 
he  was  at  the  best,  except  that  he  will  not  regain 
his  speech."  And  thereupon  he  gave  him  great 
thanks,  and  very  joyful  was  he  for  that  cause. 

That  night  they  continued  to  discourse  as  much 
as  they  would,  and  had  minstrelsy  and  carousing  ; 
and  when  it  was  more  pleasant  to  them  to  sleep 
than  to  sit  longer,  they  went  to  rest.  And  thus  was 
the  banquet  carried  on  with  joyousness ;  and  when 
it  was  finished,  Matholch  journeyed  towards  Ireland, 
and  Branwen  with  him ;  and  they  went  from  Aber 
Menei  with  thirteen  ships,  and  came  to  Ireland. 
And  in  Ireland  was  there  great  joy  because  of  their 
coming.  And  not  one  great  man  nor  noble  lady 
visited  Branwen  unto  whom  she  gave  not  either  a 
clasp  or  a  ring,  or  a  royal  jewel  to  keep,  such  as  it 
was  honorable  to  be  seen  departing  with.  And  in 
these  things  she  spent  that  year  in  much  renown, 
and  she  passed  her  time  pleasantly,  enjoying  honor 
and  friendship.  And  in  due  time  a  son  was  born 
unto  her,  and  the  name  that  they  gave  him  was 
Grwern,  the  son  of  Matholch,  and  they  put  the  boy 
out  to  be  nursed  in  a  place  where  were  the  best 
men  of  Ireland. 

And,  behold,  in  the  second  year  a  tumult  arose 
in  Ireland,  on  account  of  the  insult  which  Matholch 
had  received  in  Wales,  and  the  payment  made  him 
for  his  horses.     And  his  foster-brothers,  and  such  as 

30=* 


354  THE    MABINOGEON. 

were  nearest  to  him,  blamed  him  openly  for  that 
matter.  And  he  might  have  no  peace  by  reason  of 
the  tumult,  until  they  should  revenge  upon  him 
this  disgrace.  And  the  vengeance  which  they  took 
was  to  drive  away  Branwen  from  the  same  chamber 
with  him,'  and  to  make  her  cook  for  the  court ;  and 
they  caused  the  butcher,  after  he  had  cut  up  the 
meat,  to  come  to  her  and  give  her  every  day  a  blow 
on  the  ear  ;  and  such  they  made  her  punishment. 

"  Yerily,  lord,"  said  his  men  to  Matholch,  "  for- 
bid now  the  ships  and  the  ferry-boats,  and  the  cora- 
cles, that  they  go  not  into  Wales,  and  such  as  come 
over  from  Wales  hither,  imprison  them,  that  they  go 
not  back  for  this  thing  to  be  known  there."  And 
he  did  so  ;  and  it  was  thus  for  no  less  than  three 
years. 

And  Branwen  reared  a  starling  in  the  cover  of 
the  kneading-trough,  and  she  taught  it  to  speak,  and 
she  taught  the  bird  what  manner  of  man  her  brother 
was.  And  she  wrote  a  letter  of  her  woes,  and  the 
despite  Avith  which  she  was  treated,  and  she  bound 
the  letter  to  the  root  of  the  bird's  wing,  and  sent  it 
toward  Wales.  And  the  bird  came  to  that  island ; 
and  one  day  it  found  Bendigeid  Yran  at  Caer  Seiont 
in  Arvon,  conferring  there,  and  it  alighted  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  ruffled  its  feathers,  so  that  the  letter 
was  seen,  and  they  knew  that  the  bird  had  been 
reared  in  a  domestic  manner. 

Then  Bendigeid  Yran  took  the  letter  and  looked 
upon   it.     And  when   he   had   read   the  letter,  lie 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.       355 

grieved  exceedingly  at  the  tidings  of  Branwen's 
woes.  And  immediately  he  began  sending  messen- 
gers to  summon  the  island  together.  And  he  caused 
sevenscore  and  four  of  his  chief  men  to  come  unto 
him,  and  he  complained  to  them  of  the  grief  that  his 
sister  endured.  So  they  took  counsel.  And  in  the 
counsel  they  resolved  to  go  to  Ireland,  and  to  leave 
seven  men  as  princes  at  home,  and  Caradoc,*  the  son 
of  Bran,  as  the  chief  of  them. 

Bendigeid  Vran,  with  the  liost  of  which  we  spoke, 
sailed  towards  Ireland ;  and  it  was  not  far  across  the 
sea,  and  he  came  to  shoal  water.  Now  the  swine- 
herds of  Matholch  were  upon  the  sea-shore,  and  they 
came  to  Matholch.  "  Lord,"  said  they,  "  greeting  be 
unto  thee."  "  Heaven  protect  you  !  "  said  he ;  "  have 
you  any  news  ?  "  ''  Lord,"  said  they,  "  we  have 
marvellous  news.  A  wood  have  we  seen  upon  the 
sea,  in  a  place  where  we  never  yet  saw  a  single 
tree."  ''  This  is  indeed  a  marvel,"  said  he  ;  ''  saw 
you  aught  else  ?  "  "  We  saw,  lord,"  said  tliey,  "  a 
vast  mountain  beside  the  wood,  which  moved,  and 
there  was  a  lofty  ridge  on  the  top  of  the  mountain, 
and  a  lake  on  each  side  of  the  ridge.  And  the  wood 
and  the  mountain,  and  all  these  things,  moved." 
"  Verily,"  said  he,  "  there  is  none  who  can  know 
aught  concerning  this  unless  it  be  Bran  wen." 

Messengers  then  went  unto  Branwen.  "  Lady," 
said   they,    "  what   thinkest    thou   that   this    is  ?  " 


3J6  THE    MABINOGEON. 

"  The  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  who  have 
come  hither  on  hearing  of  my  ill-treatment  and  of 
my  woes."  "  What  is  the  forest  that  is  seen  upon 
the  sea  ?  "  asked  they.  "-  The  yards  and  the  masts 
of  ships,"  she  answered.  "  Alas  !  "  said  they  ; 
"  what  is  the  mountain  that  is  seen  by  the  side  of 
the  ships  ?  "  "  Bendigeid  Yran,  my  brother,"  she 
replied,  "  coming  to  shoal  water,  and  he  is  wading  to 
the  land."  "  What  is  the  lofty  ridge,  with  the  lake 
on  each  side  thereof  ?  "  ''On  looking  towards  this 
island  he  is  wroth,  and  his  two  eyes  on  each  side  of 
his  nose  are  the  two  lakes  on  each  side  of  the  ridge." 
The  warriors  and  chief  men  of  Ireland  were 
brought  together  in  haste,  and  they  took  counsel. 
''Lord,"  said  the  neighbors  unto  Matllolch,  "  there 
is  no  other  counsel  than  this  alone.  Thou  shalt  give 
the  kingdom  to  Gwern,  the  son  of  Branwen  his  sister, 
as  a  compensation  for  the  wrong  and  despite  that 
have  been  done  unto  Branwen.  And  he  will  make 
peace  with  thee."  And  in  the  council  it  was  re- 
solved that  this  message  should  be  sent  to  Bendigeid 
Vran,  lest  the  country  should  be  destroyed.  And 
this  peace  was  made.  And  Matholch  caused  a  great 
house  to  be  built  for  Bendigeid  Yran,  and  his  host. 
Thereupon  came  the  hosts  into  the  house.  The  men 
of  the  island  of  Ireland  entered  the  house  on  the  one 
side,  and  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty  on  the 
other.  And  as  soon  as  they  had  sat  down,  there  was 
concord  between  them  ;  and  the  sovereignty  was 
conferred  upon  the  boy.      When  the  jDcace  was  con- 


BRAXWEX,    Tlli:    DAUGIITEU    OF    LLYR.  357 

eluded,  Bendigeid  Vran  called  the  boy  unto  him, 
and  from  Bendigeid  Yran  the  boy  went  unto  Mana- 
wyddan,  and  he  was  beloved  by  all  that  beheld  him. 
And  from  Manawyddan  the  boy  was  called  by 
Nissyen,  the  son  of  Euroswydd,  and  the  boy  went 
unto  him  lovingly.  ''  Wherefore,"  said  Evnissyen, 
"  comes  not  my  nephew,  the  son  of  my  sister,  unto 
me  ?  Though  he  were  not  king  of  Ireland,  yet 
willingly  would  I  fondle  the  boy."  ''  Cheerfully  let 
him  go  to  thee,"  said  Bendigeid  Yran;  and  the  boy 
went  unto  him  cheerfully.  "  By  my  confession  to 
Heaven,"  said  Evnissyen  in  his  heart,  '^  unthovight 
of  is  the  slaughter  that  I  will  this  instant  commit." 

Then  he  arose  and  took  up  the  boy,  and  before  any 
one  in  the  house  could  seize  hold  of  him  he  thrust 
the  boy  headlong  into  the  blazing  fire.  And  when 
Branwen  saw  her  son  burning  in  the  fire,  she  strove 
to  leap  into  the  fire  also,  from  the  place  where  she 
sat  between  her  two  brothers.  But  Bendigeid  Vran 
grasped  her  with  one  hand,  and  his  shield  with 
the  other.  Then  they  all  hurried  about  the  house, 
and  never  was  there  made  so  great  a  tumult  by  any 
host  in  one  house  as  was  made  by  them,  as  each  man 
armed  himself.  And  while  they  all  sought  their 
arms  Bendigeid  Yran  supported  Branwen  between 
his  shield  and  his  shoulder.     And  they  fought. 

Then  the  Irish  kindled  a  fire  under  the  caldron 
of  renovation,  and  they  cast  the  dead  bodies  into  the 
caldron  until  it  was  full ;  and  the  next  day  they  came 
forth  fighting  men,  as  good  as  before,  except  that 


358  THE    MABINOGEON. 

they  were  not  able  to  speak.  Then  when  Evnissyen 
saw  the  dead  bodies  of  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the 
Mighty  nowhere  resuscitated,  he  said  in  his  lieart, 
"  Alas !  woe  is  me,  that  I  should  have  been  the 
cause  of  bringing  the  men  of  the  Island  of  the  Mighty 
into  so  great  a  strait.  Evil  betide  me  if  I  find  not 
a  deliverance  therefrom."  And  he  cast  himself 
among  the  dead  bodies  of  the  Irish  ;  and  two  unshod 
Irishmen  came  to  him,  and,  taking  him  to  be  one  of 
the  Irish,  flung  him  into  the  caldron.  And  he 
stretched  himself  out  in  the  caldron,  so  that  he  rent 
the  caldron  into  four  pieces,  and  burst  his  own 
heart  also. 

In  consequence  of  this,  the  men  of  the  Island  of 
the  Mighty  obtained  such  success  as  they  had  ;  but 
they  were  not  victorious,  for  only  seven  men  of  them 
all  escaped,  and  Bendigeid  Vran  himself  was  wounded 
in  the  foot  with  a  poisoned  dart.  Now  the  men  that 
escaped  were  Pryderi,  Manawyddan,  Taliesin,  and 
four  others. 

And  Bendigeid  Vran  commanded  them  that  they 
should  cut  off  his  head.  ''  And  take  you  my  head," 
said  he,  "  and  bear  it  even  unto  the  White  Mount  in 
London,  and  bury  it  there  with  the  face  towards 
Prance.  And  so  long  as  it  lies  there,  no  enemy  shall 
ever  land  on  the  island."  So  they  cut  off  his  head, 
and  these  seven  went  forward  therewith.  And 
Branwen  was  the  eighth  with  them.  And  they  came 
to  land  on  Aber  Alaw,  and  they  sat  down  to  rest. 
And  Branwen  looked  towards  Ireland,  and  towards 


BRANWEN,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  LLYR.      359 

the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  to  see  if  she  could  descry 
them.  "  Alas  !  "  said  she,  "  woe  is  me  that  I  was 
ever  born ;  two  islands  have  been  destroyed  because 
of  me."  Then  she  uttered  a  groan,  and  there  broke 
her  heart.  And  they  made  her  a  four-sided  grave, 
and  buried  'her  upon  the  banks  of  the  Alaw. 

Then  the  seven  men  journeyed  forward,  bearing 
the  head  with  them ;  and  as  they  went,  behold  there 
met  them  a  multitude  of  men  and  women.  "  Have 
you  any  tidings?"  said  Manawyddan.  *^  We  have 
none,"  said  they,  "  save  that  Caswallawn,*  the  son 
of  Beli,  has  conquered  the  Island  of  the  Mighty,  and 
is  crowned  king  in  London."  "  What  has  become," 
said  they,  "  of  Caradoc,  the  son  of  Bran,  and  the 
seven  men  who  were  left  with  him  in  this  island  ?  " 
"  Caswallawn  came  upon  them,  and  slew  six  of  the 
men,  and  Caradoc's  heart  broke  for  grief  thereof." 
And  the  seven  men  journeyed  on  towards  London, 
and  they  buried  the  head  in  the  White  Mount,  as 
Bendigeid  Vran  had  directed  them.f 

*  Cassivellaunus. 

t  There  is  a  Triad  upon  the  story  of  the  head  buried  under  the 
White  Tower  of  London,  as  a  charm  against  invasion.  Arthur,  it 
seems,  proudly  disinterred  the  head,  preferring  to  hold  the  island  by 
his  own  strength  alone.  « 


CHAPTER    X. 

MANAWYDDAN. 

PwYLL  and  Ehiannon  had  a  son,  whom  they 
named  Pryderi.  And  when  he  was  grown  up,  Pwyll, 
his  father,  died.  And  Pryderi  married  Kicva,  the 
daughter  of  Gwynn  Gloy. 

Now  Manawyddan  returned  from  the  war  in  Ire- 
land, and  he  found  that  his  cousin  had  seized  all 
his  possessions,  and  much  grief  and  heaviness  came 
upon  liim.  "  Alas  !  woe  is  me  !  "  he  exclaimed  ; 
''  there  is  none  save  myself  without  a  home  and  a 
resting-place."  "-  Lord,"  said  Pryderi,  '^  be  not  so 
sorrowful.  Tliy  cousin  is  king  of  the  Island  of  the 
Mighty,  and  though  he  has  done  thee  wrong,  thou 
hast  never  been  a  claimant  of  land  or  possessions." 
"Yea,"  answered  he,  "  but  although  this  man  is  my 
cousin,  it  grieveth  me  to  see  any  one  in  the  place  of 
my  brother,  Bendigeid  Yran  ;  neither  can  I  be  happy 
in  the  same  dwelling  with  him."  "  Wilt  thou  fol- 
low the  counsel  of  another  ?  "  said  Pryderi.  "  I 
stand  in  need  of  counsel,"  he  answered,  "  and  what 
may  that  counsel  be  ?  "      '•  Seven  cantrevs   belong 


JIANAWYDDAX.  361 

unto  me,"  said  Piyderi,  "wherein  Rlnannon,  my 
mother,  dwells.  I  will  bestow  her  upon  thee,  and 
the  seven  cantrevs  with  her ;  and  though  thou  hadst 
no  possessions  but  those  cantrevs  only,  thou  couldst 
not  have  any  fairer  than  they.  Do  thou  and  Rhi- 
annon  enjoy  them,  and  if  thou  desire  any  posses- 
sions thou  wilt  not  despise  these."  "  I  do  not, 
chieftain,"  said  he.  "  Heaven  reward  thee  for  thy 
friendship !  I  will  go  with  thee  to  seek  Rhiannon, 
and  to  look  at  thy  possessions."  "  Thou  wilt  do 
well,"  he  answered ;  "  and  I  believe  that  thou  didst 
never  hear  a  lady  discourse  better  than  she,  and 
when  she  was  in  her  prime,  none  was  ever  fairer. 
Even  now  her  aspect  is  not  uncomely." 

They  set  forth,  and,  however  long  the  journey, 
they  came  at  last  to  Dyved ;  and  a  feast  was  pre- 
pared for  them  by  Rhiannon  and  Kicva.  Then 
began  Manawyddan  and  Rhiannon  to  sit  and  to 
talk  together;  and  his  mind  and  his  thoughts  be- 
came warmed  towards  her,  and  he  thought  in  his 
heart  he  had  never  beheld  any  lady  more  fulfilled 
of  grace  and  beauty  than  she.  '•'  Pryderi,"  said  he, 
"  I  will  that  it  be  as  thou  didst  say."  "  What  say- 
ing was  that?"  asked  Rhiannon.  '^  Lady,"  said 
Pryderi,  "  I  did  offer  thee  as  a  wife  to  Manawyddan, 
the  son  of  Llyr."  "  By  that  will  I  gladly  abide," 
said  Rhiannon.  ''Right  glad  am  I  also,"  said  Ma- 
nawyddan ;  "  may  Heaven  reward  him  who  hath 
shown  unto  me  friendship  so  perfect  as  this  !  " 

And  before  the  feast  was  over   she   became   his 

31 


362  THE    MABINOGEON. 

bride.  Said  Pryderi,  "Tarry  ye  here  the  rest  of 
the  feast,  and  I  will  go  into  England  to  tender  my 
homage  unto  Caswallawn,  the  son  of  Beli."  "  Lord," 
said  Rhiannon,  "  Caswallawn  is  in  Kent ;  thou  nqay- 
est  therefore  tarry  at  the  feast,  and  wait  until  he 
shall  be  nearer."  "  We  will  wait,"  he  answered. 
So  they  finished  the  feast.  And  they  began  to 
make  the  circuit  of  Dyved,  and  to  hunt,  and  to 
take  their  pleasure.  And  as  they  went  through 
the  country,  they  had  never  seen  lands  more  pleas- 
ant to  live  in,  nor  better  hunting-grounds,  nor 
greater  plenty  of  honey  and  fish.  And  such  was 
the  friendship  between  these  four,  that  they  would 
not  be  parted  from  each  other  by  night  nor  by 
day. 

And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  he  went  to  Caswal- 
lawn at  Oxford,  and  tendered  his  homage  ;  and  hon- 
orable was  his  reception  there,  and  highly  was  he 
praised  for  offering  his  homage. 

And  after  his  return  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan 
feasted  and  took  their  ease  and  pleasure.  And 
they  began  a  feast  at  Narberth,  for  it  was  the  chief 
palace.  And  when  they  had  ended  the  first  meal, 
while  those  who  served  them  ate,  they  arose  and 
went  forth,  and  proceeded  to  the  Gorsedd,  that  is, 
the  Mound  of  Narberth,  and  their  retinue  with  them. 
And  as  they  sat  thus,  behold  a  pipal  of  thunder,  and 
with  the  violence  of  the  thunder-storm,  lo !  there 
came  a  fall  of  mist,  so  thick  that  not  one  of  them 
could  see  the  other.     And  after  the  mist  it  became 


MANAWYDDAN.  363 

light  all  around.  And  when  they  looked  towards 
the  place  where  they  were  wont  to  see  cattle  and 
herds  and  dwellings,  they  saw  nothing  now,  neither 
house,  nor  beast,  nor  smoke,  nor  j5re,  nor  man,  nor 
dwelling,  but  the  buildings  of  the  court  empty,  and 
desert,  and  uninhabited,  without  either  man  or 
beast  within  them.  And  truly  all  their  compan- 
ions were  lost  to  them,  without  their  knowing 
aught  of  what. had  befallen  them,  save  those  four 
only. 

''In  the  name  of  Heaven,"  said  Manawyddan, 
"  where  are  they  of  the  court,  and  all  my  host  be- 
side ?     Let  us  go  and  see." 

So  they  came  to  the  castle,  and  saw  no  man,  and 
into  the  hall,  and  to  the  sleeping-place,  and  there 
was  none;  and  in  the  mead-cellar  and  in  the 
kitchen  there  Avas  naught  but  desolation.  Then 
they  began  to  go  through  the  land,  and  all  the  pos- 
sessions that  they  had ;  and  they  visited  the  houses 
and  dwellings,  and  found  nothing  but  wild  beasts. 
And  when  they  had  consumed  their  feast  and  all 
their  provisions,  they  fed  upon  the  prey  they  killed 
in  hunting,  and  the  honey  of  the  Avild  swarms. 

And  one  morning  Pryderi  and  Manawyddan  rose 
up  to  hunt,  and  they  ranged  their  dogs  and  went 
fortli.  And  some  of  the  dogs  ran  before  them,  and 
came  to  a  bush  Avhich  was  near  at  hand ;  but  as 
soon  as  they  were  come  to  the  bush,  they  hastily 
drew  back,  and  returned  to  the  men,  their  hair 
bristling    up   greatly.      "  Let   us    go   near   to   the 


364:  THE    MABINOGKON. 

bush,"  said  Prjderi,  "  and  see  what  is  in  it." 
And  as  thev  came  near,  behold,  a  wild  boar  of  a 
pure  white  color  rose  up  from  the  bush.  Then 
the  dogs,  being  set  on  by  the  men,  rushed  towards 
him;  but  he  left  the  bush,  and  fell  back  a  little 
way  from  tlie  men,  and  made  a  stand  against  the 
dogs,  without  retreating  from  them,  until  the  men 
had  come  near.  And  when  the  men  came  up,  he 
fell  back  a  second  time,  and  betook  liim  to  flight. 
Then  they  pursued  the  boar  until  they  beheld  a 
vast  and  lofty  castle,  all  newly  built,  in  a  place 
where  they  had  never  before  seen  either  stone  or 
building.  And  the  boar  ran  swiftly  into  the  castle, 
and  the  dogs  after  him.  Now  when  the  boar  and 
the  dogs  had  gone  into  the  castle,  tWe  men  began  to 
wonder  at  finding  a  castle  in  a  place  where  they 
had  never  before  seen  any  building  whatsoever. 
And  from  the  top  of  the  Gorsedd  they  looked  and 
listened  for  the  dogs.  But  so  long  as  they  were 
there,  they  heard  not  one  of  the  dogs,  nor  aught 
concerning  them. 

"  Lord,"  said  Pryderi,  "  I  will  go  into  the  castle 
to  get  tidings  of  the  dogs."  "  Truly,"  he  replied, 
"  thou  wouldst  be  unwise  to  go  into  this  castle, 
which  thou  hast  never  seen  till  now.  If  thou 
wouldst  follow  my  counsel,  thou  wouldst  not  enter 
therein.  Whosoever  has  cast  a  spell  over  this  land, 
has  caused  this  castle  to  be  here."  ''  Of  a  truth," 
answered  Pryderi,  "  I  cannot  thus  give  up  my 
dogs."  And  for  all  the  counsel  that  Manawyddan 
o-ave  him,  vet  to  the  castle  he  went. 


MANA  WYDD  AN. .  3  66 

When  lio  came  within  the  castle,  neither  man 
nor  beast,  nor  boar,  nor  dogs,  nor  house,  nor  dwell- 
ing, saw  he  within  it.  But  in  the  centre  of  the 
castle-floor  he  beheld  a  fountain  with  marble-work 
around  it,  and  on  the  margin  of  the  fountain  a 
golden  bowl  upon  a  marble  slab,  and  chains  hang- 
ing from  the  air,  to  which  he  saw  no  end. 

And  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  beauty  of 
the  gold,  and  with  the  rich  workmanship  of  the 
bowl ;  and  he  went  up  to  the  bowl,  and  laid  hold  of 
it.  And  when  he  had  taken  hold  of  it,  his  hands 
stuck  to  the  bowl,  and  his  feet  to  the  slab  on  which 
the  bowl  was  placed ;  and  all  his  joyousness  forsook 
him,  so  that  he  could  not  utter  a  word.  And  thus 
he  stood. 

And  Manawyddan  waited  for  him  fill  near  the 
close  of  the  day.  And  late  in  the  evening,  being 
certain  that  he  should  have  no  tidings  of  Pryderi  or 
the  dogs,  he  went  back  to  the  palace.  And  as  he 
entered,  Khiannon  looked  at  him.  "Where,"  said 
she,  "are  thy  companion  and  thy  dogs?"  "  Be- 
liold,"  he  answered,  "  the  adventure  tliat  has  be- 
fallen me."  And  he  related  it  all  unto  her.  "  An 
evil  companion  hast  thou  been,"  said  Rhiannon, 
"  and  a  good  companion  hast  thou  lost."  And 
with  that  word  she  went  out,  and  proceeded  to- 
wards the  castle,  according  to  the  direction  which 
he  gave  her.  The  gate  of  the  castle  she  found 
open.  She  was  nothing  daunted,  and  she  went  in. 
And  as  she  went  in,  she  perceived  I^ryderi  laying 

31* 


366  THE    MABl^'OGEOX. 

hold  of  the  bowl,  and  she  went  towards  him.  ^'  0 
my  lord,"  said  she,  '^  what  dost  thou  here  ?  "  And 
she  took  hold  of  the  bowl  with  him ;  and  as  she  did 
so,  her  hands  also  became  fast  to  the  bowl,  and 
her  feet  to  the  slab,  and  she  was  not  able  to  ut- 
ter a  word.  And  with  that,  as  it  became  night, 
lo  !  there  came  thunder  upon  them,  and  a  fall  of 
mist ;  and  thereupon  the  castle  vanished,  and  they 
with  it. 

When  Kicva,  the  daughter  of  Glynn  Gloy,  saw 
that  there  was  no  one  in  the  palace  but  herself  and 
Manawyddan,  she  sorrowed  so  that  she  cared  not 
whether  she  lived  or  died.  And  Manawyddan  saw 
this.  "  Thou  art  in  the-  wrong,"  said  he,  ''  if 
through  fear  of  me  thou  grievest  thus.  I  call 
Heaven  to  witness  that  thou  hast  never  seen  friend- 
sliip  more  pure  than  that  which  I  will  bear  thee,  as 
long  as  Heaven  will  that  thou  shouldst  be  tlms.  I 
declare  to  thee,  that,  were  I  in  the  dawn  of  youth,  I 
would  keep  my  faith  unto  Pryderi,  and  unto  thee 
also  will  I  keep  it.  Be  there  no  fear  upon  thee, 
therefore."  ''  Heaven  reward  thee ! "  she  said  ;  ''  and 
that  is  what  I  deemed  of  thee."  And  the  damsel 
thereupon  took  courage,  and  was  glad. 

"  Truly,  lady,"  said  Manawyddan,  ''  it  is  not  fit- 
ting for  us  to  stay  here  ;  we  have  lost  our  dogs,  and 
cannot  get  food.  Let  us  go  into  England ;  it  is 
easiest  for  us  to  find  support  there."  "  Gladly, 
lord,"  said  she,  '^  we  will  do  so."  And  they  set 
forth  together  to  England. 


MANAWYDDAN.  367 

"  Lord,"  said  she,  "  what  craft  wilt  thou  follow  ? 
Take  up  one  that  is  seemly."  ''  None  other  will  I 
take,"  answered  he,  "  but  that  of  making  shoes." 
''  Lord,"  said  she,  ''  such  a  craft  becomes  not  a  man 
so  nobly  born  as  thou."  "  By  that  however  will  I 
abide,"  said  he.  "- 1  know  nothing  thereof,"  said 
Kicva.  "  But  I  know,"  answered  Manawyddan, 
"  and  I  will  teach  thee  to  stitch.  We  will  not  at- 
tempt to  dress  the  leather,  but  we  will  buy  it  ready 
dressed,  and  will  make  the  shoes  from  it." 

So  they  went  into  England,  and  went  as  far  as 
Hereford;  and  they  betook  themselves  to  making 
shoes.  And  he  began  by  buying  the  best  cordwain 
that  could  be  had  in  the  town,  and  none  other  would 
he  buy.  And  he  associated  himself  with  the  best 
goldsmith  in  the  town,  and  caused  him  to  make 
clasps  for  the  shoes,  and  to  gild  the  clasps ;  and  he 
marked  how  it  was  done  until  he  learned  the  meth- 
od. And  therefore  is  he  called  one  of  the  three 
makers  of  gold  shoes.  And  when  they  could  be 
had  from  him,  not  a  shoe  nor  hose  was  bought  of 
any  of  the  cordwaiuers  in  the  town.  But  when  the 
cordwainers  perceived  that  their  gains  were  failing, 
(for  as  Manawyddan  shaped  the  work,  so  Kicva 
stitched  it,)  they  came  together  and  took  counsel, 
and  agreed  that  they  would  slay  them.  And  he 
had  warning  thereof,  and  it  was  told  him  how  the 
cordwainers  had  agreed  together  to  slay  him. 

"  Lord,"  said  Kicva,  ''  wherefore  should  this  be 
borne  from  these  boors  ?  "     "  Nay,"  said  he,  "  we 


368  THE    MABINOGEON. 

will  go  back  unto  Djved."  So  towards  Dyved  tliey 
set  forth. 

Now  Manawyddan,  when  he  set  out  to  return  to 
Dyved,  took  with  him  a  burden  of  wheat.  And  he 
proceeded  towards  Narberth,  and  there  he  dwelt. 
And  never  was  he  better  pleased  than  when  he  saw 
Narberth  again,  and  the  lands  where  he  had  been 
wont  to  hunt  with  Pryderi  and  with  Rhiannon. 
And  he  accustomed  himself  to  fish,  and  to  hunt  the 
deer  in  their  covert.  And  then  he  began  to  prepare 
some  ground,  and  he  sowed  a  croft,  and  a  second, 
and  a  third.  And  no  wheat  in  the  world  ever 
sprung  up  better.  And  the  three  crofts  prospered 
with  perfect  growth,  and  no  man  ever  saw  fairer 
wheat  than  it. 

And  thus  passed  the  seasons  of  the  year  until  the 
harvest  came.  And  he  went  to  look  at  one  of  his 
crofts,  and,  behold,  it  was  ripe.  "  I  will  reap  this 
to-morrow,"  said  he.  And  that  night  he  went  back 
to  Narberth,  and  on  the  morrow,  in  the  gray  dawn, 
he  went  to  reap  the  croft ;  and  when  he  came  there, 
he  found  nothing  but  the  bare  sl^raw.  Every  one  of 
the  ears  of  the  wheat  was  cut  off  from  the  stalk,  and 
all  the  ears  carried  entirely  away,  and  nothing  but 
the  straw  left.     And  at  this  he  marvelled  greatly. 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  another  croft,  and,  be- 
hold, that  also  was  ripe.  "  Verily,"  said  he,  "  this 
will  I  reap  to-morrow."  And  on  the  morrow  he 
came  with  the  intent  to  reap  it ;  and  when  he  came 
there,  he  found  nothing  but  the  bare  straw.     ''  0 


MANAWYDDAN.  369 

gracious  Heaven !  "  he  exclaimed,  ^'  I  know  that 
whosoever  has  begun  my  ruin  is  completing  it,  and 
has  also  destroyed  the  country  with  me." 

Then  he  went  to  look  at  the  third  croft ;  and  when 
he  came  there,  finer  wheat  had  there  never  been  seen, 
and  this  also  was  ripe.  "  Evil  betide  me,"  said  he, 
"  if  I  watch  not  here  to-night.  Whoever  carried  off 
the  other  corn  will  come  in  like  manner  to  take  this, 
and  I  will  know  who  it  is."  And  he  told  Kicva  all 
that  had  befallen.  "  Yerily,"  said  she,  "  what 
thinkest  thou  to  do  ? "  "I  will  watch  the  croft 
to-night,"  said  he.  And  he  went  to  watch  the 
croft.  Ji 

And  at  midnight  he  heard  something  stirring 
among  the  wheat ;  and  he  looked,  and  behold,  the 
mightiest  host  of  mice  in  the  world,  which  could 
neither  be  numbered  nor  measured.  And  he  knew 
not  what  it  was  until  the  mice  had  made  their  way 
into  the  croft,  and  each  of  them,  climbing  up  the 
straw,  and  bending  it  down  with  its  weight,  had  cut 
off  one  of  the  ears  of  wheat,  and  had  carried  i^  away, 
leaving  there  the  stalk ;  and  he  saw  not  a  single 
straw  there  that  had  not  a  mouse  to  it.  And  they 
all  took  their  way,  carrying  the  ears  with  them. 

In  wrath  and  anger  did  he  rush  upon  the  mice ; 
but  he  could  no  more  come  up  with  them  than  if  they 
had  been  gnats  or  birds  of  the  air,  except  one  only, 
which,  though  it  was  but  sluggish,  went  so  fast  that 
a  man  on  foot  could  scarce  overtake  it.  And  after 
this  one  he  went,  and  he  caught  it,  and  put  it  in  his 


370  THE   MABINOGEON. 

glove,  and  tied  up  the  opening  of  the  glove  with  a 
string,  and  kept  it  with  him,  and  returned  to  the 
palace.  Then  he  came  to  the  hall  where  Kicva  was, 
and  he  lighted  a  fire,  and  hung  the  glove  by  the 
string  upon  a  peg.  "  What  hast  thou  there,  lord  ?  " 
said  Kicva.  "  A  thief,"  said  he,  "  that  I  found 
robbing  me."  "  What  kind  of  a  thief  may  it  be, 
lord,  that  thou  couldst  put  into  thy  glove  ?  "  said 
she.  Then  he  told  her  how  the  mice  came  to  the 
last  of  the  fields  in  his  sight.  "  And  one  of  them 
was  less  nimble  than  the  rest,  and  is  now  in  my 
glove  ;  "  to-morrow  I  will  hang  it."  "  My  lord," 
said  she,  "  this  is^arvellous  ;  but  yet  it  would  be 
unseemly  for  a  man  of  dignity  like  thee  to  be  hang- 
ing such  a  reptile  as  this."  "  Woe  betide  me,"  said 
he,  "if  I  would  not  hang  them  all,  could  I  catch 
them,  and*  such  as  I  have  I  will  hang."  "  Verily, 
lord,"  said  she,  "  there  is  no  reason  that  I  should 
succor  this  reptile,  except  to  prevent  discredit  unto 
thee.     Do  therefore,  lord,  as  thou  wilt." 

Theii  he  went  to  the  Mound  of  Narberth,  taking 
the  mouse  with  him.  And  he  set  up  two  forks  on 
the  highest  part  of  the  mound.  And  while  he  was 
doing  this,  behold,  he  saw  a  scholar  coming  towards 
him,  in  old  and  poor  and  tattered  garments.  And 
it  was  now  seven  years  since  he  had  seen  in  that 
place  either  man  or  beast,  except  those  four  persons 
who  had  remained  together  until  two  of  them  were 
lost. 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  scholar,  "good  day  to  thee." 


MANAWYDDAN.  371 

"  Heaven  prosper  thee,  and  my  greeting  be  unto 
thee !  And  whence  dost  thou  come,  scholar  ?  " 
asked  he.  "  I  come,  lord,  from  singing  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  wherefore  dost  thou  inquire  ? "  "  Be- 
cause for  the  last  seven  years,"  answered  he,  ''  I 
have  seen  no  man  here  save  four  secluded  persons, 
and  thyself  this  moment."  "  Truly,  lord,"  said  he, 
"  I  go  through  this  land  unto  mine  own.  And  what 
work  art  thou  upon,  lord  ? "  "I  am  hanging  a 
thief  that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said  he.  "What 
manner  of  thief  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  scholar.  "  I 
see  a  creature  in  thy  hand  like  unto  a  mouse,  and 
ill  does  it  become  a  man  of  rank  equal  to  thine  to 
touch  a  reptile  such  as  this.  Let  it  go  forth  free." 
"  I  will  not  let  it  go  free,  by  Heaven',"  said  he  ;  "I 
caught  it  robbing  me,  and  the  doom  of  a  thief  will 
I  inflict  upon  it,  and  I  will  hang  it."  "Lord,"  said 
he,  "  rather  than  see  a  man  of  rank  equal  to  thine 
at  such  a  work  as  this,  I  would  give  thee  a  pound, 
which  I  have  received  as  alms,  to  let  the  reptile  go 
forth  free."  "  I  will  not  let  it  go  free,"  said  he, 
"  neither  will  I  sell  it."  "  As  thou  wilt,  lord,"  he 
answered ;  "  I  care  naught."  And  the  scholar  went 
his  way. 

And  as  he  was  placing  the  cross-beam  upon  the 
two  forks,  behold,  a  priest  came  towards  him,  upon 
a  horse  covered  with  trappings.  "  Good  day  to 
thee,  lord,"  said  he.  "  Heaven  prosper  thee  !  "  said 
Manawyddan  ;  "  thy  blessing."  "  The  blessing  of 
Heaven  be  upon  thee !     And  what,  lord,  art  thou 


372  THE    MABIXOGEOX.  • 

doing  ? "  "I  am  hanging  a  thief  that  I  caught 
robbing  me,"  said  he.  "  What  manner  of  thief, 
lord  ?  "  asked  he.  "  A  creature,"  he  answered, 
"  in  form  of  a  mouse.  It  has  been  robbing  me, 
and  I  am  inflicting  upon  it  the  doom  of  a  thief." 
''  Lord,"  said  he,  "  rather  than  see  thee  touch  this 
reptile,  I  would  purchase  its  freedom."  ''  By  my 
confession  to  Heaven,  neither  will  I  sell  it  nor  set 
it  free."  ''  It  is  true,  lord,  that  it  is  worth  nothing 
to  buy  ;  but  rather  than  see  thee  defile  thyself  by 
touching  such  a  reptile  as  this,  I  will  give  thee  three 
pounds  to  let  it  go."  "  I  will  not,  by  Heaven," 
said  he,  "  take  any  price  for  it.  As  it  ought,  so 
shall  it  be  hanged."  And  the  priest  went  his  way. 
Then  he  noosed  the  string  around  the  mouse's 
neck,  and  as  he  was  about  to  draw  it  up,  behold,  he 
saw  a  bishop's  retinue,  with  his  sumpter-horses  and 
his  attendants.  And  the  bishop  himself  came  to- 
wards him.  And  he  stayed  his  work.  "  Lord  Bish- 
op," said  he, ''  thy  blessing."  ''  Heaven's  blessing  be 
unto  thee !  "  said  he.  "  What  work  art  thou  upon  ?  " 
"  Hanging  a  thief  that  I  caught  robbing  me,"  said 
he.  "  Is  not  that  a  mouse  that  I  see  in  thy  hand  ?  " 
''  Yes,"  answered  he,  "  and  she  has  robbed  me." 
"  Ay,"  said  he,  "  since  I  have  come  at  the  doom  of 
this  reptile,  I  will  ransom  it  of  thee.  I  will  give 
thee  seven  pounds  for  it,  and  that  rather  than  see  a 
man  of  rank  equal  to  thine  destroying  so  vile  a  rep- 
tile as  this.  Let  it  loose,  and  thou  shalt  have  tlie 
monev."     ''  I  declare  to  Heaven  that  I  will  not  lot 


Manawyddan,  preparing  to  hang  the  mouse  which  has   despoiled  hia   crops  ia  re- 
nstrated  with  by  th«  bishop.  Page   37*2. 


^^^A^ 


Of 'THB 


foHIV'BRSITY] 


•^4  .*.^. 


MAXAAVYDD  AX.  O  i  6 

it  loose."  ''  If  thou  wilt  not  loose  it  for  this,  1  will 
give  thee  four  and  twenty  pounds  of  ready  money 
to  set  it  free."  ''  I  will  not  set  it  free,  by  Heaven, 
for  as  much  again,"  said  he.  ''  If  thou  wilt  not  set 
it  free  for  this,  I  will  give  thee  all  the  horses  that 
thou  seest  in  this  plain,  and  the  seven  loads  of  hag- 
gage,  and  the  seven  horses  that  they  are  upon." 
''  By  Heaven,  I  will  not,"  he  replied.  "•  Since 
for  this  thou  wilt  not  set  it  free,  do  so  at  what  price 
soever  thou  wilt."  "  I  will  that  Rhiannon  and 
Pryderi  be  free,"  said  he.  '^  That  thou  shalt  have," 
he  answered.  "  Not  yet  will  I  loose  the  mouse,  by 
Heaven."  "  What  then  wouldst  thou  ?  "  "  That 
the  charm  and  the  illusion  be  removed-  from  the 
seven  cantrevs  of  Dyved."  ''  This  shalt  thou  have 
also  ;  set  therefore  the  mouse  free."  "  I  will  not 
set  it  free,  by  Heaven,"  said  he,  "  till  I  know  who 
the  mouse  may  be."  ''  She  is  my  wife."  "  Where- 
fore came  she  to  me  ?  "  "  To  despoil  thee,"  he 
answered.  "  I  am  Lloyd,  the  son  of  Kilwed,  and  I 
cast  the  charm  over  the  seven  cantrevs  of  Dyved. 
And  it  was  to  avenge  Gawl,  the  son  of  Clud,  from 
the  friendship  I  had  towards  him,  that  I  cast  the 
charm.  And  upon  Pryderi  did  I  avenge  Gawl,  the 
son  of  Clud,  for  the  game  of  Badger  in  the  Bag,  that 
Pwyll,  the  son  of  Auwyn,  played  upon  him.  And 
when  it  was  known  that  thou  wast  come  to  dwell  in 
the  land,  my  household  came  and  besought  me  to 
transform  them  into  mice,  that  they  might  destroy 
thy  corn.     And  they  went  the  first  and  the  second 

32 


374  THE    MAEINOGEON. 

night,  and  destroyed  tliy  two  crops.  And  the  third 
night  came  unto  nie  my  wife  and  the  ladies  of  the 
court,  and  besought  me  to  transform  them.  And  I 
transformed  them.  Now  she  is  not  in  her  usual 
health.  And  had  she  been  in  her  usual  health,  thou 
wouldst  not  have  been  able  to  overtake  her ;  but  since 
this  has  taken  place,  and  she  has  been  caught,  I  will 
restore  to  thee  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon,  and  I  will 
take  the  charm  and  illusion  from  off  Dyved.  Set 
her  therefore  free."  "  I  will  not  set  her  free  yet." 
''  What  wilt  thou  more  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  will  that 
there  be  no  more  charm  upon  the  seven  cantrevs  of 
Dyved,  and  that  none  shall  be  put  upon  it  hence- 
forth ;  moreover,  that  vengeance  be  never  taken  for 
this,  either  upon  Pryderi  or  Rhiannon,  or  upon  me." 
''  All  this  shalt  thou  have.  And  truly  thou  hast 
done  wisely  in  asking  this.  Upon  thy  head  would 
have  lit  all  this  trouble."  "  Yea,"  said  he,  "  for 
fear  thereof  was  it  that  I  required  this."  "  Set  now 
my  wife  at  liberty."  "  I  will  not,"  said  he,  ^'  until 
I  see  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon  with  me  free."  "  Be- 
hold, here  they  come,"  he  answered. 

And  thereupon  behold  Pryderi  and  Rhiannon. 
And  he  rose  up  to  meet  them,  and  greeted  them, 
and  sat  down  beside  them.  "  Ah,  chieftain,  set  now 
my  wife  at  liberty,"  said  the  bishop.  "  Hast  thou 
not  received  all  thou  didst  ask  ?  "  "I  will  release 
her,  gladly,"  said  he.  And  thereupon  he  set  her 
free. 

Then  he  struck  her  with  a  magic  wand,  and  she 


MANAWYDDAN.  375 

was  changed  back  into  a  young  woman,  the  fairest 
ever  seen. 

"  Look  round  upon  thy  land,"  said  he,  '^  and  thou 
wilt  see  it  all  tilled  and  peopled  as  it  was  in  its  best 
estate."  And  he  rose  up  and  looked  forth.  And 
when  he  looked  he  saw  all  the  lands  tilled,  and  full 
of  herds  and  dwellings. 

And  thus  ends  this  portion  of  the  Mabinogi. 


The  following  allusions  to  the  preceding  story  are 
found  in  a  letter  of  the  poet  Southey  to  John  Rick- 
man,  Esq.,  dated  June  6th,  1802  :  — 

^'  You  will  read  the  Mabinogeon,  concerning  which 
I  ought  to  have  talked  to  you.  In  the  last,  that 
most  odd  and  Arabian-like  story  of  the  mouse, 
mention  is  made  of  a  begging  scholar,  that  helps  to 
the  date ;  but  where  did  the  Cymri  get  the  imagi- 
nation that  could  produce  such  a  tale  ?  That  en- 
chantment of  the  basin  hanging  by  the  chain  from 
heaven  is  in  the  wildest  spirit  of  the  Arabian  Nights. 
I  am  perfectly  astonished  that  such  fictions  should 
exist  in  Welsh.  They  throw  no  light  on  the  origin 
of  romance,  every  tiling  being  utterly  dissimilar  to 
what  we  mean  by  that  term,  but  they  do  open  a  new 
world  of  fiction  ;  and  if  the  date  of  their  language 
be  fixed  about  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century,  I 
cannot  but  think  the  mythological  substance  is  of 
far  earlier  date;  very  probably  brought  from  the 
East  by  some  of  the  first  settlers  or  conquerors." 


CHAPTER    XI. 

KILWICH  AND   OLWEN. 

KiLYDD,  the  son  of  Prince  Kelyddon,  desired  a 
wife  as  a  helpmate,  and  the  wife  that  he  chose  was 
Goleudid,  the  daughter  of  Prince  Anlawd.  And 
after  their  union  the  people  put  up  prayers  that  they 
might  have  an  lieir.  And  they  had  a  son  through 
the  prayers  of  the  people  ;  and  called  his  name  Kil- 
wich. 

After  this  the  boy's  mother,  Goleudid,  the  daughter 
of  Prince  Anlawd,  fell  sick.  Then  slie  called  her 
husband  to  her,  and  said  to  him,  "  Of  this  sickness 
I  shall  die,  and  thou  wilt  take  another  wife.  Now 
wives  are  the  gift  of  the  Lord,  but  it  would  be  wrong 
for  thee  to  harm  thy  son.  Therefore  I  charge  thee 
that  thou  take  not  a  wife  until  thou  see  a  briar 
with  two  blossoms  upon  my  grave."  And  this  he 
promised  her.  Then  she  besought  liim  to  dress  her 
grave  every  year,  that  no  weeds  might  grow  thereon. 
So  the  queen  died.  Now  the  king  sent  an  attendant 
every  morning  to  see  if  anything  were  growing  upon 
the  grave.  And  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  year  they 
neglected  that  which  they  had  promised  to  the  queen. 


KILWICH   AND    OLWEN.  377 

One  day  the  king  went  to  hunt ;  and  ho  rodo  to 
the  place  of  burial,  to  see  the  grave,  and  to  know  if 
it  were  time  that  he  should  take  a  wife :  and  the 
king  saw  the  briar.  And  when  he  saw  it,  the  king 
took  counsel  where  he  should  find  a  wife.  Said  one 
of  his  counsellors,  "  I  know  a  wife  that  will  suit  thee 
well ;  and  she  is  the  wife  of  King  Doged.''  And 
they  resolved  to  go  to  seek  her ;  and  they  slew  the 
king,  and  brought  away  his  wife.  And  they  con- 
quered the  king's  lands.  And  he  married  the 
widow  of  King  Doged,  the  sister  of  Yspadaden  Pen- 
kawr. 

And  one  day  his  stepmother  said  to  Kilwich,  "  It 
were  well  for  thee  to  have  a  wife."  "  I  am  not  yet 
of  an  age  to  wed,"  answered  the  youth.  Then  said 
she  unto  him,  "  I  declare  to  thee  that  it  is  thy  destiny 
not  to  be  suited  witli  a  wife  until  thou  obtain  Olwen, 
the  daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  And  the 
youth  blushed,  and  tlie  love  of  the  maiden  diffused 
itself  through  all  his  frame,  although  he  had  never 
seen  her.  And  his  father  inquired  of  him,  "  What 
has  come  over  thee,  my  son,  and  what  aileth  thee  ?  " 
"  My  stepmother  has  declared  to  me  that  I  shall 
never  have  a  wife  until  I  obtain  Olwen,  the  daughter 
of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  ''That  will  be  easy  for 
thee,"  answered  his  father.  "  Artliur  is  thy  cousin. 
Go,  therefore,  unto  Arthur,  to  cut  thy  hair,  and  ask 
this  of  him  as  a  boon." 

And  the  youth  pricked  forth  upon  a  steed  with 
head  dappled  gray,  four  winters  oh],  ikm  of  limb, 


S78  THE    MABINOGEON. 

with  shell-formed  hoofs,  having  a  bridle  of  linked 
gold  on  his  head,  and  upon  him  a  saddle  of  costly 
gold.  And  m  the  youth's  hand  were  two  spears 
of  silver,  sharp,  well-tempered,  headed  with  steel, 
three  ells  in  length,  of  an  edge  to  wound  the  wind, 
and  cause  blood  to  flow,  and  swifter  than  the  fall  of 
the  dew-drop  from  the  blade  of  reed-grass,  when  the 
dew  of  June  is  at  the  heaviest.  A  gold-hilted  sword 
was  upon  his  thigh,  the  blade  of  which  was  gilded, 
bearing  a  cross  of  inlaid  gold  of  the  hue  of  the  light- 
ning of  heaven.  His  war-horn  was  of  ivory.  Be- 
fore him  were  two  brindled,  white-breasted  grey- 
hounds, having  strong  collars  of  rubies  about  their 
necks,  reaching  from  the  shoulder  to  the  ear.  And 
tlie  one  that  was  upon  the  left  side  bounded  across 
to  the  right  side,  and  the  one  on  the  right  to  the 
left,  and,  like  two  sea-swallows,  sported  around  him. 
And  his  courser  cast  up  four  sods,  with  his  four 
lioofs,  like  four  swallows  in  the  air,  about  his  head, 
now  above,  now  below.  About  him  was  a  four- 
cornered  cloth  of  purple,  and  an  apple  of  gold  was 
at  each  corner,  and  every  one  of  the  apples  was  of 
the  value  of  an  hundred  kine.  And  there  was  pre- 
cious gold  of  the  value  of  three  hundred  kine  upon 
his  shoes,  and  upon  his  stirrups,  from  his  knee  to 
the  tip  of  his  toe.  And  the  blade  of  grass  bent  not 
beneath  him,  so  light  was  his  courser's  tread,  as  he 
journeyed  toward  the  gate  of  Arthur's  palace. 

Spoke  the  youth :  "  Is  there  a  porter  ?  "     "  There 
is  ;  and  if  tliou  boldest  riot  thy  peace,  small  will  be 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  379 

thy  welcome.  I  am  Arthur's  porter  every  first  day 
of  January."  "  Open  the  portal."  "  I  will  not  open 
it."  '^  Wherefore  not?"  ''The  knife  is  in  the 
meat,  and  the  drink  is  in  the  horn,  and  there  is 
revelry  in  Arthur's  hall ;  and  none  may  enter  there- 
in but  the  son  of  a  king  of  a  privileged  country,  or 
a  craftsman  bringing  his  craft.  But  tliere  will  be 
refreshment  for  thy  dogs  and  for  thy  horse ;  and 
for  thee  there  will  be  collops  cooked  and  peppered, 
and  luscious  wine,  and  mirthful  songs  ;  and  food 
for  fifty  men  shall  be  brouglit  unto  thee  in  the  guest- 
chamber,  where  the  stranger  and  tlie  sons  of  other 
countries  eat,  who  come  not  into  the  precincts  of  the 
palace  of  Arthur.  Thou  wilt  fare  no  worse  there 
tlian  thou  wouldst  with  Artluir  in  the  court.  A 
lady  shall  smootli  thy  couch,  and  shall  lull  thee 
with  songs  ;  and  early  to-morrow  morning,  when 
the  gate  is  open  for  the  multitude  that  came  hither 
to-day,  for  thee  sliall  it  be  opened  first,  and  thou 
mayest  sit  in  the  place  that  thou  shalt  choose  in  Ar- 
thur's hall,  from  the  upper  end  to  the  lower."  Said 
the  youth :  "  That  will  I  not  do.  If  thou  openest  the 
gate,  it  is  well.  If  thou  dost  not  open  it,  I  will  bring 
disgrace  upon  thy  lord,  and  evil  report  upon  thee. 
And  I  will  set  up  three  sliouts  at  this  very  gate,  than 
which  none  were  ever  heard  more  deadly."  "What 
clamor  soever  thou  mayest  make,"  said  Glewlwyd 
the  porter,  ''  against  the  laws  of  Arthur's  palace, 
shalt  thou  not  enter  therein,  until  I  first  go  and 
t\j^:\k  with  Arthur." 


380  THE    MABINOGEOK. 

Then  Glewlwyd  went  into  the  hall.  And  Arthur 
said  to  him,  ''  Hast  thou  news  from  the  gate  ?  " 
^' Half  of  mj  life  is  passed,"  said  Glewlwyd,  ''and 
half  of  thine.  I  was  heretofore  in  Kaer  Se  and 
Asse,  in  Sach  and  Salach,  in  Lotor  and  Fotor,  and 
I  have  been  in  India  the  Great  and  India  the  Lesser, 
and  I  have  also  been  in  Europe  and  Africa,  and  in 
the  islands  of  Corsica,  and  I  was  present  when  thou 
didst  conquer  Greece  in  the  East.  Nine  supreme 
sovereigns,  handsome  men,  saw  we  there,  but  never 
did  I  behold  a  man  of  equal  dignity  with  him  who 
is  now  at  the  door  of  the  portal."  Then  said  Ar- 
thur ;  "  If  walking  thou  didst  enter  here,  return 
thou  running.  It  is  unbecoming  to  keep .  such  a 
man  as  thou  sayest  he  is  in  the  wind  and  the  rain." 
Said  Kay :  ''  By  the  hand  of  my  friend,  if  thou 
wouldst  follow  my  counsel,  thou  wouldst  not  break 
through  the  laws  of  the  court  because  of  him." 
"  Not  so,  blessed  Kay,"  said  Arthur ;  "  it  is  an 
honor  to  us  to  be  resorted  to,  and  the  greater  our 
courtesy,  the  greater  will  be  our  renown  and  our 
fame  and  our  glory." 

And  Glewlwyd  came  to  the  gate,  and  opened  the 
gate  before  Kilwich;  and  although  all  dismounted 
upon  the  horse-block  at  the  gate,  yet  did  he  not 
dismount,  but  he  rode  in  upon  his  charger.  Then 
said  he,  "  Greeting  be  unto  thee,  sovereign  ruler  of 
this  island,  and  be  this  greeting  no  less  unto  the 
lowest  than  unto  the  highest,  and  be  it  equally  unto 
tliy  guests,  and  thy  warriors,  and  thy  chieftains ;  let 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN. 


381 


all  partake  of  it  as  completely  as  thyself.  And  com- 
plete be  tliy  favor,  and  thy  fame,  and  thy  glory, 
throughout  all  this  island."  '^  Greeting  unto  thee 
also,"  said  Arthur  ;  ''  sit  thou  between  two  of  my 
warriors,  and  thou  shalt  have  minstrels  before  thee, 
and  thou  shalt  enjoy  the  privileges  of  a  king  born  to 
a  throne,  as  long  as  thou  remainest  here.  And 
when  I  dispense  my  presents  to  the  visitors  and 
strangers  in  this  court,  they  shall  be  in  thy  hand  at 
my  commencing."  Said  the  youth,  ''  I  came  not 
here  to  consu.me  meat  and  drink  ;  but  if  I  obtain 
the  boon  that  I  seek,  I  will  requite  it  thee,  and 
extol  thee  ;  but  if  I  have  it  not,  I  will  bear  forth 
thy  dispraise  to  the  four  quarters  of  the  world,  as 
far  as  thy  renown  has  extended."  Then  said  Ar- 
thur, "  Since  thou  wilt  not  remain  here,  chieftain, 
thou  shalt  receive  the  boon,  whatsoever  thy  tongue 
may  name,  as  far  as  the  wind  dries,  and  the  rain 
moistens,  and  the  sun  revolves,  and  the  sea  encir- 
cles, and  the  earth  extends ;  save  only  my  ship 
Prydwen,  and  my  mantle,  and  Caleburn,  my  sword, 
and  Rhongomyant,  my  lance,  and  Guenever,  my  wife. 
By  the  truth  of  Heaven,  thou  shalt  have  it  cheer- 
fully, name  what  thou  wilt."  "  I  would  that  thou 
bless  my  hair,"  said  he.  ''  That  shall  be  granted 
thee." 

And  Arthur  took  a  golden  comb,  and  scissors , 
whereof  the  loops  were  of  silver,  and  lie  combed  liis 
liair.     And  Arthur  inquired  of  him  who  he  was ; 
'^  for  my  heart  warms  unto  thee,  and  I  know  that 


382  THIi    3IA1JIN0GE0N. 

thou  art  come  of  mj  blood.  Tell  me,  therefore, 
who  thou  art."  ''  I  will  tell  thee,"  said  the  youth. 
"  I  am  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  the  son  of  Prince 
Kelyddon,  by  Goleudyd  my  mother,  the  daughter  of 
Prince  Anlawd."  "  That  is  true,"  said  Arthur  ; 
"  thou  art  my  cousin.  Whatsoever  boon  thou 
mayest  ask,  thou  shalt  receive,  be  it  what  it  may 
tliat  thy  tongue  shall  name."  "  Pledge  the  truth 
of  Heaven  and  the  faith  of  thy  kingdom  thereof." 
"  I  pledge  it  thee  gladly."  "  I  crave  of  thee,  then, 
thiat  thou  obtain  for  me  Olwen,  the  daughter  of 
Yspadaden  Penkawr,  to  wife  ;  and  this  boon  I  like- 
wise seek  at  the  hands  of  thy  warriors.  I  seek  it 
from  Kay  and  from  Bedwyr  ;  and  from  Gwynn,  the 
son  of  Nudd,  and  Gadwy,  the  son  of  Geraint,  and 
Prince  Plewddur  Flam,  and  lona,  king  of  France, 
and  Sel,  the  son  of  Selgi,  and  Taliesiu,  the  chief  of 
the  bards,  and  Geraint,  the  son  of  Erbin,  Garanwyn, 
the  son  of  Kay,  and  Amren,  the  son  of  Bedwyr,  01, 
the  son  of  Olwyd,  Bedwin,  the  bishop,  Guenever,  the 
chief  lady,  and  Guenhywach,  her  sister,  Morved,  the 
daughter  of  Urien,  and  Gwenlian  Deg,  the  majestic 
maiden,  Creiddylad,*  the  daughter  of  Lludd,  the 

=*  Creiddylad  is  no  other  than  Shakespeare's  Cordelia,  whose 
father,  King  Lear,  is  by  the  Welsh  authorities  called  indiscriminately 
Llyr  or  Lludd.  All  the  old  chroniclers  give  the  story  of  her  devotion 
^to  her  aged  parent,  but  none  of  them  seem  to  have  been  aware  that 
she  is  destined  to  remain  with  him  till  the  day  of  doom,  whilst  Gwyn 
ap  Nudd,  the  king  of  the  fairies,  and  Gwythyr  ap  Greidiol,  fight  for 
her  every  first  of  May,  and  whichever  of  them  may  be  fortunate 
enough  to  be  the  conqueror  at  that  time  will  obtain  her  as  his  bride. 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  383 

constant  maiden,  and  Ewaedan,  the  daughter  of 
Kynvelyn,*  the  half-man."  All  these  did  Kilwicli, 
the  son  of  Kilydd,  adjure  to  obtain  his  boon. 

Then  said  Arthur,  "  0  chieftain,  I  have  never 
heard  of  the  maiden  of  whom  thou  speakest,  nor  of 
her  kindred,  but  I  will  gladly  send  messengers  in 
search  of  her.  Give  me  time  to  seek  her."  And 
the  youth  said,  "  I  will  willingly  grant  from  this 
night  to  that  at  the  end  of  the  year  to  do  so."  Then 
Arthur  sent  messengers  to  every  land  within  his 
dominions  to  seek  for  the  maiden,  and  at  the  end  of 
the  year  Arthur's  messengers  returned  without  hav- 
ing gained  any  knowledge  or  intelligence  concern- 
ing 01  wen,  more  than  on  the  first  day.  Then  said 
Kilwich,  "  Every  one  has  received  his  boon,  and  I 
yet  lack  mine.  I  will  depart,  and  bear  away  thy 
honor  with  me."  Then  said  Kay,  "  Rash  chieftain ! 
dost  thou  reproach  Arthur  ?  Go  with  us,  and  we 
will  not  part  until  thou  dost  either  confess  that  the 
maiden  exists  not  in  the  world,  or  until  we  obtain 
her."  Thereupon  Kay  rose  up.  And  Arthur  called 
Bedwyr,  who  never  shrank  from  any  enterprise  upon 

=*  The  Welsh  have  a  fable  on  the  subject  of  the  half-man,  taken  to 
be  illustrative  of  the  force  of  habit.  In  this  allegory  Arthur  is  sup- 
posed to  be  met  by  a  sprite,  who  appears  at  first  in  a  small  and  indis- 
tinct form,  but  who,  on  approaching  nearer,  increases  in  size,  and, 
assuming  the  semblance  of  half  a  man,  endeavors  to  provoke  the  king 
to  wrestle.  Despising  his  weakness,  and  considering  that  he  should 
gain  no  credit  by  the  encounter,  Arthur  refuses  to  do  so,  and  delays 
the  contest  until  at  length  the  half-man  (Habit)  becomes  so  strong 
that  it  requires  his  utmost  efforts  to  overcome  him. 


384  THE    MABINOGEON. 

•which  Kay  was  bound.  None  were  equal  to  him  in 
swiftness  throughout  this  island  except  Arthur 
alone ;  and  although  he  was  one-handed,  three 
■warriors  could  not  shed  blood  faster  than  he  on  the 
field  of  battle. 

And  Arthur  called  to  Kyndelig,  the  guide,  '^  Go 
thou  upon  this  expedition  with  the  chieftain." 
For  as  good  a  guide  was  he  in  a  land  which  he  had 
never  seen  as  he  was  in  his  own. 

He  called  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  because  he  knevf  all 
tongues. 

He  called  Gawain,  the  son  of  Gwyar,  because  he 
never  returned  home  without  achieving  the  adven- 
ture of  which  he  went  in  quest. 

And  Arthur  called  Meneu,  the  son  of  Teirgwcd, 
in  order  that,  if  they  went  into  a  savage  country,  he 
might  cast  a  charm  and  an  illusion  over  them,  so  that 
none  might  see  them  wiiilst  they  could  see  every 
one. 

They  journeyed  until  they  came  to  a  vast  open 
plain,  wherein  they  saw  a  great  castlo,  which  was 
the  fairest  of  the  castles  of  the  world.  And  when 
they  came  before  the  castle,  they  beheld  a  vast  flock 
of  sheep.  And  upon  tlie  top  of  a  mound  there  was 
a  herdsman  keeping  the  sheep.  And  a  rug  made  of 
skins  was  upon  him,  and  by  his  side  was  a  shaggy 
mastiif,  larger  than  a  steed  nine  winters  old. 

Then  said  Kay,  ''  Gurhyr  Gwalstat,  go  thou  and 
salute  yonder  man."  ''.  Kay,"  said  he,  ''  I  engaged 
not  to  go  further  than  thou  thyself."      "  Let  us  go 


KILWICII    AND    OLWEN.  385 

tlieii  together,"  answered  Kay.  Said  Meneu,  "  Fear 
not  to  go  thither,  for  I  will  cast  a  spell  upon  the 
dog,  so  that  he  shall  injure  no  one."  And  they  went 
up  to  the  mound  whereon  the  herdsman  was,  and 
they  said  to  him,  "  How  dost  thou  fare,  herdsman  ?  " 
''  Not  less  fair  be  it  to  you  than  to  me."  ''  Whose 
are  the  sheep  that  thou  dost  keep,  and  to  whom  does 
yonder  castle  belong?"  ''Stupid  are  ye,  truly! 
not  to  know  that  this  is  the  castle  of  Yspadaden 
Penkawr.  And  ye  also,  who  are  ye  ?  "  "  We  are 
an  embassy  from  Arthur,  come  to  seek  Olwen,  tlio 
daughter  of  Yspadaden  Penkawr."  "  0  men  !  the 
mercy  of  Heaven  be  upon  you ;  do  not  that  for  all 
the  world.  None  who  ever  came  hither  on  this  quest 
has  returned  alive."  And  the  herdsman  rose  up. 
And  as  he  rose  Kilwich  gave  unto  him  a  ring  of  gold. 
And  he  went  home  and  gave  the  ring  to  his  spouse 
to  keep.  And  she  took  the  ring  when  it  was  given 
her,  and  she  said,  ''  Whence  came  this  ring,  for  thou 
art  not  wont  to  have  good  fortune."  "  0  wife,  him 
to  whom  this  ring  belonged  thou  shalt  see  here  this 
evening."  ''  And^who  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  woman. 
"  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  by  Goleudid,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Prince  Anlawd,  who  is  come  to  seek  Olwen  as 
liis  wife."  And  when  she  heard  that,  she  had  joy 
that  her  nephew,  the  son  of  her  sister,  was  coming 
to  her,  and  sorrow,  because  she  had  never  known 
any  one  depart  alive  wlio  had  come  on  that  qiiest. 

xind  the  men  went  forward  to  the  gate  of  the 
herdsman's  dwelling.     And  when    she  heard  their 

33 


38 G  THE    MABIXOGEON. 

footsteps  approaching,  she  ran  out  with  joy  to  meet 
them.  And  Kay  snatched  a  billet  out  of  the  pile. 
And  when  she  met  them,  she  sought  to  throw  her 
arms  about  their  necks.  And  Kay  placed  the  log 
between  her  two  hands,  and  she  squeezed  it  so  that 
it  became  a  twisted  coil.  •  '^  0  woman,"  said  Kay, 
"  if  thou  hadst  squeezed  me  thus,  none  could  ever 
again  have  set  their  affections  on  me.  Evil  love 
were  this."  They  entered  into  the  house  and  were 
served  ;  and  soon  after,  they  all  went  forth  to  amuse 
themselves.  Then  the  woman  opened  a  stone  chest 
that  was  before  the  chimney-corner,  and  out  of  it 
arose  a  youth  with  yellow,  curling  hair.  Said 
Gurhyr,  ''  It  is  a  pity  to  hide  this  youth.  I  know 
that  it  is  not  his  own  crime  that  is  thus  visited  upon 
him."  ^'  This  is  but  a  remnant,"  said  the  woman. 
"  Three  and  twenty  of  my  sons  has  Yspadaden 
Penkawr  slain,  and  I  have  no  more  hope  of  this  one 
than  of  the  others."  Then  said  Kay,  '^  Let  him 
come  and  be  a  companion  with  me,  and  he  shall  not 
be  slain  unless  I  also  am  slain  with  him."  And  they 
ate.  And  the  woman  asked  Ihem,  ''  Upon  what 
errand  come  you  here  ? "  "  We  come  to  seek 
Olwen  for  this  youth."  Then  said  the  woman,  ''  In 
the  name  of  Heaven,  since  r^o  one  from  the  castle 
hath  yet  seen  you,  return  again  whence  you  came." 
"  Heaven  is  our  witness,  that  we  will  not  return  un- 
til we  have  seen  the  maiden.  Does  she  ever  come 
hither,*  so  that  she  may  be  seen?"  "She  comes 
here  every  Saturday  to  wash  her  head,  and  in  the 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  387 

vessel  where  she  washes  she  leaves  all  her  rings,  and 
she  never  either  comes  herself  or  sends  any  messen- 
gers to  fetch  them."  "  Will  she  come  here  if  she 
is  sent  to  ?  "  "  Heaven  knows  that  I  will  not  destroy 
my  soul,  nor  will  I  betray  those  that  trust  me  ;  un- 
less you  will  pledge  me  your  faith  tliat  you  will  not 
harm  her,  I  will  not  send  to  her."  "  We  pledge  it," 
said  they.     So  a  message  was  sent,  and  she  came. 

The  maiden  was  clothed  in  a  robe  of  flame-colored 
silk,  and  about  her  neck  was  a  collar  of  ruddy  gold, 
on  which  were  precious  emeralds  and  rubies.  More 
yellow  was  her  head  than  the  flower  of  the  broom,* 
and  her  skin  was  whiter  than  the  foam  of  the  wave, 
and  fairer  were  her  hands  and  her  fingers  than  the 
blossoms  of  the  wood-anemone  amidst  the  spray  of 
the  meadow  fountain.  The  eye  of  the  trained  hawk 
was  not  brighter  than  hers.  Her  bosom  was  more 
snowy  than  the  breast  of  the  white  swan,  her  cheek 
was  redder  than  the  reddest  roses.  Whoso  beheld  her 
was  filled  with  her  love.  Four  white  trefoils  sprung 
up  wherever  she  trod.  And  therefore  was  she  called 
Qlwen. 

She  entered  the  house  and  sat  beside  Kilwich 
upon  the  foremost  bench ;   and  as  soon  as  he  saw 

=^  The  romancers  dwell  with  great  complacency  on  the  fair  hair  and 
delicate  complexion  of  their  heroines.  This  taste  continued  for  a  long 
time,  and  to  render  the  hair  light  was  an  object  of  education.  Even 
when  wigs  came  into  fashion  they  were  all  flaxen.  Such  was  the 
color  of  the  hair  of  the  Gauls  and  of  their  German  conquerors.  It 
required  some  centuries  to  reconcile  their  eyes  to  the  swarthy  beauties 
of  their  Spanish  and  Italian  neighbors. 


388  THE    MABINOGEON. 

her,  he  knew  her.  And  Kilwich  said  unto  her, 
"  Ah !  maiden,  thou  art  she  whom  I  have  loved ; 
come  away  with  me,  lest  they  speak  evil  of  thee  and 
of  me.  Many  a  day  have  I  loved  thee."  ''  I  cannot 
do  this,  for  I  have  pledged  my  faith  to  my  father  not 
to  go  without  his  counsel,  for  his  life  will  last  only 
until  the  time  of  my  espousals.  Whatever  is  to  be, 
must  be.  But  I  will  give  thee  advice,  if  thou  wilt 
take  it.  Go,  ask  me  of  my  father,  and  that  which 
he  shall  require  of  thee,  grant  it,  and  thou  wilt  ob- 
tain me  ;  but  if  thou  deny  him  anything,  thou  wilt 
not  obtain  me,  and  it  will  be  well  for  thee  if  thou 
escape  with  thy  life."  "  1  promise  all  this,  if  oc- 
casion offer,"  said  he. 

She  returned  to  her  chamber,  and  they  all  rose 
up,  and  followed  her  to  the  castle.  And  they  slew 
the  nine  porters,  that  were  at  the  nine  gates,  in 
silence.  And  they  slew  the  nine  watch-dogs  with- 
out one  of  them  barking.  And  they  went  forward 
to  the  hall. 

"  The  greeting  of  Heaven  and  of  man  be  unto  thee, 
Yspadaden  Penkawr,"  said  they.  "  And  you,  where- 
fore come  you  ?  "  "  We  come  to  ask  thy  daughter 
Olwen  for  Kilwich,  the  son  of  Kilydd,  the  son  of 
Prince  Kelyddon."  "  Where  are  my  pages  and  my 
servants  ?  Raise  up  the  forks  beneath  my  two  eye- 
brows, which  have  fallen  over  my  eyes,  that  I  may 
see  the  fashion  of  my  son-in-law."  And  they  did  so. 
''  Come  hither  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  have  an 
answer." 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEN.  389 

Tliey  rose  to  go  forth,  and  Yspadaden  Penkawr 
seized  one  of  the  three  poisoned  darts  that  lay  be- 
side him,  and  threw  it  after  them.  And  Bedwyr 
caught  it,  and  flung  it,  and  pierced  Yspadaden 
Penkawr  grievously  witli  it  through  the  knee.  Then 
he  said,  '^  A  cursed  ungentle  son-in-law,  truly  !  I 
shall  ever  walk  the  worse  for  his  rudeness,  and  shall 
ever  be  without  a  cure.  This  poisoned  iron  pains 
me  like  the  bite  of  a  gad-fly.  Cursed  be  the  smith 
who  forged  it,  and  the  anvil  on  which  it  was 
wrought!     So  sharp  is  it !  " 

That  night  also  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the 
house  of  the  herdsman.  The  next  day,  with  the 
dawn,  they  arrayed  themselves  and  proceeded  to  the 
castle,  and  entered  the  hall;  and  they  said,  "  Yspa- 
daden Penkawr,  give  us  thy  daughter  in  considera- 
tion of  her  dower  and  her  maiden  fee,  which  we  will 
pay  to  thee,  and  to  her  two  kinswomen  likewise." 
Then  he  said,  "  Her  four  great-grandmothers  and 
h^r  four  great-grandsires  are  yet  alive  ;  it  is  needful 
that  I  take  counsel  of  them."  ''  Be  it  so,"  they 
answered,  "  we  will  go  to  meat."  As  they  rose  up 
he  took  the  second  dart  that  was  beside  him,  and  cast 
it  after  them.  And  Meneu,  the  son  of  Gawedd, 
caught  it,  and  flung  it  back  at  him,  and  wounded  him 
in  the  centre  of  the  breast.  "  A  cursed  ungentle  son- 
in-law,  truly !  "  said  he  ;  ''  the  hard  iron  pains  me 
like  the  bite  of  a  horse-leech.  Cursed  be  the  hearth 
whereon  it  was  heated,  and  tlie  smith  who  formed 
it!     So  sharp  is  it !     Henceforth,  Avhencvcr  I  go  up 


390  THE    MABINOGEON. 

hill,  I  shall  have  a  scant  in  my  breath,  and  a  pain 
in  my  chest,  and  I  shall  often  loathe  my  food." 
And  they  went  to  meat. 

And  the  third  day  they  returned  to  the  palace. 
And  Yspadaden  Penkawr  said  to  them,  "  Shoot  not 
at  me  again  unless  you  desire  death.  Where  are 
my  attendants  ?  Lift  up  the  forks  of  my  eyebrows, 
which  have  fallen  over  my  eyeballs,  that  I  may  see 
the  fashion  of  my  son-in-law."  Then  they  arose, 
and,  as  they  did  so,  Yspadaden  Penkawr  took  the 
third  poisoned  dart  and  cast  it  at  them.  And  Kil- 
wich  caught ^t,  and  threw  it  vigorously,  and  wound- 
ed him  through  the  eyeball.  "  A  cursed  ungentle 
son-in-law,  truly!  As  long  as  I  remain  alive,  my 
eyesight  will  be  the  worse.  Whenever  I  go  against 
the  wind,  my  eyes  will  water  ;  and  peradventure  my 
head  will  burn,  and  I  shall  have  a  giddiness  every 
new  moon.  Like  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog  is  the  stroke 
of  this  poisoned  iron.  Cursed  be  the  fire  in  which 
it  was  forged  !  "     And  they  went  to  meat. 

And  the  next  day  they  came  again  to  the  palace, 
and  they  said,  ''  Shoot  not  at  us  any  more,  unless 
tliou  desirest  such  hurt  and  harm  and  torture  as 
thou  now  hast,  and  even  more."  Said  Kilwich, 
"  Give  me  thy  daughter  ;  and  if  thou  wilt  not  give 
her,  thou  shalt  receive  thy  death  because  of  her." 
"  Where  is  he  that  seeks  my  daughter  ?  Come 
liither  Avlierc  I  may  see  thee."  And  they  placed 
him  a  chair  face  to  face  witli  him. 

Said  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  '•  Is  it  tliou  tliat  seek- 
cst  mv  danirhter  ?  " 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEX.  391 

"  It  is  I,"  answered  Kilwich. 

"  I  must  have  thy  pledge  that  thou  wilt  not  do 
toward  me  otherwise  than  is  just ;  and  when  I  have 
gotten  that  which  I  shall  name,  my  daughter  thou 
shalt  have." 

"  I  promise  thee  that,  willingly,"  said  Kilwich  ; 
*'  name  what  thou  wilt." 

''  I  will  do  so,"  said  he.  "  Seest  tliou  yonder  red 
tilled  ground  ?  " 

"  I  see  it." 

"  When  first  I  met  the  mother  of  this  maiden, 
nine  bushels  of  flax  were  sown  therein,  and  none 
has  yet  sprung  up,  white  nor  black.  I  require 
to  have  the  flax  to  sow  in  the  new  land  yonder, 
that  when  it  grows  up  it  may  make  a  white  wim- 
ple for  my  daughter's  head  on  the  day  of  thy  wed- 
ding." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although 
thou  mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

^'  Tiiough  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which 
tliou  wilt  not  get,  —  the  harp  of  Teirtu,  to  play  to 
us  that  night.  When  a  man  desires  that  it  should 
play,  it  does  so  of  itself ;  and  when  he  desires  that 
it  should  cease,  it  ceases.  And  this  he  will  not  give 
of  his  own  free  will,  and  thou  wilt  not  be  able  to 
compel  him." 

''  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although 
thou  mayest  think  that  it  will  not  be  easy." 

''  Though  thou  get  this,  tliere  is  yet  that  which 
thou  wilt  not  get.     I  require  thee  to  get  me  for  my 


392  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

huntsman  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron.  He  was  taken 
from  his  mother  when  three  nights  old,  and  it  is  not 
known  where  he  now  is,  nor  whether  he  is  living  or 
dead." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although 
thou  mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which 
thou  wilt  not  get,  —  the  two  cubs  of  the  wolf  Gast 
Rhymhi;  no  leash  in  the  world  will  hold  them,  but 
a  leash  made  from  the  beard  of  Dillus  Yarwawc,  the 
robber.  And  the  leash  will  be  of  no  avail  unless  it 
be  plucked  from  his  beard  while  he  is  alive.  While 
he  lives,  he  will  not  suffer  this  to  be  done  to  him, 
and  the  leash  will  be  of  no  use  should  he  be  dead, 
because  it  will  be  brittle." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although 
thou  mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

"  Tliough  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which 
thou  wilt  not  get,  —  the  sword  of  Gwernach  the 
Giant ;  of  his  own  free  will  he  will  not  give  it,  and 
thou  wilt  never  be  able  to  compel  him." 

"  It  will  be  easy  for  me  to  compass  this,  although 
thou  mayest  think  it  will  not  be  easy." 

''Though  thou  get  this,  there  is  yet  that  which 
thou  wilt  not  get.  Difficulties  shalt  thou  meet 
with,  and  nights  without  sleep,  in  seeking  this,  and 
if  thou  obtain  it  not,  neither  shalt  thou  obtain  my 
daughter." 

"  Horses  shall  I  have,  and  chivalry  ;  and  my  lord 
and  kinsman,  Arthur,  will  obtain  for  me  all  these 


KILWICII    AND    OLWEN.  39^ 

things.     And  I  shall  gain  thy  daughter,  and  thou 
shalt  lose  thy  life." 

"  Go  forward.  And  thou  shalt  not  bo  chargeable 
for  food  or  raiment  for  my  daughter  while  thou  art 
seeking  these  things  ;  and  when  thou  hast  com- 
passed all  these  marvels,  thou  shalt  have  my  daugh- 
ter for  thy  wife.'' 


CHAPTER    XH. 

KILWICH  AND   OLWEN,   CONTINUED. 

All  that  day  they  journeyed  until  the  evening, 
and  then  they  beheld  a  vast  castle,  which  was  the 
largest  in  the  world.  And  lo  !  a  black  man,  larger 
than  three  of  the  men  of  this  world,  came  out  from 
the  castle.  And  they  spoke  unto  him,  and  said, 
"  0  man,  whose  castle  is  that  ?  "  "  Stupid  are  ye, 
truly,  0  men !  There  is  no  one  in  the  world  that 
does  not  know  that  this  is  the  castle  of  Gwernach 
the  Giant."  "  What  treatment  is  there  for  guests 
and  strangers  that  alight  in  that  castle  ? "  "  O 
chieftain,  Heaven  protect  thee  !  No  guest  ever  re- 
turned thence  alive,  and  no  one  may  enter  therein 
imless  he  brings  with  him  his  craft." 

Then  they  proceeded  towards  the  gate.  Said 
Gurhyr  G  waist  at,  "  Is  there  a  porter  ?  "  "  There 
is  ;  wherefore  dost  thou  call  ?  "  "  Open  the  gate." 
"  I  will  not  open  it."  "  Wherefore  wilt  thou  not  ?  " 
"  The  knife  is  in  the  meat,  and  the  drink  is  in  the 
horn,  and  there  is  revelry  in  the  hall  of  Gwernach 
the  Giant ;  and  except  for  a  craftsman  who  brings 


KILWICH    AND    OLWEX.  895 

his  craft,  the  gate  will  not  be  opened  to-night." 
"  Verily,  porter,"  then  said  Kay,  "  my  craft  bring 
I  with  me."  "  What  is  thy  craft  ?  "  "  The  best 
burnisher  of  swords  am  I  in  the  world."  "  I  will 
go  and  tell  this  unto  Gwernach  the  Giant,  and  I  will 
bring  thee  an  answer." 

So  the  porter  went  in,  and  Gwernach  said  to  him, 
''Hast  thou  news  from  the  gate?"  "I  have. 
There  is  a  party  at  the  door  of  the  gate  who  desire 
to  come  in."  "  Didst  thou  inquire  of  them  if  they 
possessed  any  art  ? "  "I  did  inquire,"  said  he, 
"  and  one  told  me  that  he  was  well  skilled  in  the 
burnishing  of  swords."  "  We  have  need  of  him 
then.  For  some  time  have  I  sought  for  some  one 
tq  polish  my  sword,  and  could  find  no  one.  Let 
this  man  enter,  since  he  brings  with  him  his  craft." 

The  porter  thereupon  returned  and  opened  the 
gate.  And  Kay  went  in  by  himself,  and  he  saluted 
Gwernach  the  Giant.  And  a  chair  was  placed  for 
him  opposite  to  Gwernach.  And  Gwernach  said  to 
him,  "  0  man,  is  it  true  that  is  reported  of  thee, 
that  thou  knowest  how  to  burnish  swords  ?  "  "I 
know  full  well  how  to  do  so,"  answered  Kay.  Then 
was  the  sword  of  Gwernach  brought  to  him.  And 
Kay  took  a  blue  whetstone  from  under  his  arm,  and 
asked  whether  he  would  have  it  burnished  white  or 
blue.  "  Do  with  it  as  it  seems  good  to  thee,  or  as 
thou  wouldst  if  it  were  thine  own."  Then  Kay 
polished  one  half  of  the  blade,  and  put  it  in  his 
hand.     "  Will  tliis  please  thee  ?  "    asked  he.     "  I 


o9G  THE    MABINOGEON. 

would  rather  than  all  that  is  in  my  dominions  that 
the  whole  of  it  were  like  this.  It  is  a  marvel  to  me 
that  such  a  man  as  thou  should  be  without  a  com- 
panion." '^  O  noble  sir,  I  have  a  companion,  albeit 
he  is  not  skilled  in  this  art."  "  Who  may  he  be  ?  " 
"  Let  the  porter  go  forth,  and  I  will  tell  him  where- 
by he  may  know  him.  The  head  of  his  lance  will 
leave  its  shaft,  and  draw  blood  from  the  wind,  and 
will  descend  upon  its  shaft  again."  Then  the  gate 
was  opened,  and  Bedwyr  entered.  And  Kay  said, 
"  Bedwyr  is  very  skilful,  though  he  knows  not  this 
art." 

And  there  was  much  discourse  among  those  who 
were  without,  because  that  Kay  and  Bedwyr  liad 
gone  in.  And  a  young  man  who  was  with  them, 
the  only  son  of  the  herdsman,  got  in  also ;  and  he 
contrived  to  admit  all  the  rest,  but  they  kept  them- 
selves concealed. 

The  sword  was  now  polished,  and  Kay  gave  it 
unto  the  hand  of  Gwernach  the  Giant,  to  see  if  he 
were  pleased  with  his  work.  And  the  giant  said, 
"  The  work  is  good ;  I  am  content  therewith." 
Said  Kay,  ''  It  is  thy  scabbard  that  hath  rusted  thy 
sword ;  give  it  to  me,  that  I  may  take  out  the  wood- 
en sides  of  it,  and  put  in  new  ones."  And  he  took 
the  scabbard  from  him,  and  the  sword  in  the  other 
hand.  And  he  came  and  stood  over  against  the 
giant,  as  if  he  would  have  put  the  sword  into  the 
scabbard  ;  and  with  it  he  struck  at  the  head  of  the 
giant,  and  cut  off  his  licad  at  one  blov/.     Tlien  they 


KILWICH   AND    OLWEN.  397 

despoiled  the  castle,  and  took  from  it  what  goods 
and  jewels  they  would.  And  they  returned  to  Ar- 
thur's court,  bearing  with  them  the  sword  of  Gwer- 
nach  the  Giant. 

And  when  they  told  Arthur  how  they  had  sped, 
Arthur  said,  "  It  is  a  good  beginning."  Then  they 
took  counsel,  and  said,  "  Which  of  these  marvels 
will  it  be  best  for  us  to  seek  next  ?  "  "  It  will  bo 
best,"  said  one,  "  to  seek  Mabon,  the  son  of  Mo- 
dron  ;  and  he  will  not  be  found  unless  we  first  find 
Eidoel,  the  son  of  Aer,  his  kinsman."  Then  Arthur 
rose  up,  and  the  warriors  of  the  island  of  Britain 
with  him,  to  seek  for  Eidoel ;  and  they  proceeded 
until  they  came  to  the  castle  of  Glivi,  where  Eidoel 
was  imprisoned.  Glivi  stood  on  the  summit  of  his 
castle,  and  he  said,  "  Arthur,  what  requirest  thou 
of  me,  since  nothing  remains  to  me  in  this  fortress, 
and  I  have  neither  joy  nor  pleasure  in  it,  neither 
wheat  nor  oats  ?  Seek  not,  therefore,  to  do  me 
harm."  Said  Arthur,  "  Not  to  injure  thee  came  I 
hither,  but  to  seek  for  the  prisoner  that  is  with 
thee."  "  I  will  give  thee  my  prisoner,  though  I 
had  not  thought  to  give  him  up  to  any  one,  and 
therewith  shalt  thou  have  my  support  and  my  aid." 

His  followers  said  unto  Arthur,  "  Lord,  go  thou 
home,  thou  canst  not  proceed  with  thy  host  in  quest 
of  such  small  adventures  as  these."  Then  said 
Arthur,  "  It  were  well  for  thee,  Gurhyr  Gwalstat, 
to  go  upon  this  quest,  for  thou  knowest  all  lan- 
guages, and  art  familiar  with  those  of  the  birds  and 

34 


398  THE    MABINOGEON. 

the  beasts.  Thou,  Eidoel,  oughtest  likewise  to  go 
with  thy  men  in  search  of  thy  cousin.  And  as  for 
you,  Kay  and  Bedwyr,  I  have  hope  of  whatever 
adventure  ye  are  in  quest  of,  that  ye  will  achieve  it. 
Achieve  ye  this  adventure  for  me." 

They  went  forward  until  they  came  to  the  Ousel 
of  Cilgwri.  And  Gurhyr  adjured  her,  saying, 
"  Tell  me  if  thou  knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son 
of  Modron,  who  was  taken  when  three  nights  old 
from  between  his  mother  and  the  wall  ?  "  And  the 
Ousel  answered,  "  When  I  first  came  here,  there 
was  a  smith's  anvil  in  this  place,  and  I  was  then  a 
young  bird ;  and  from  that  time  no  work  has  been 
done  upon  it,  save  the  pecking  of  my  beak  every 
evening ;  and  now  there  is  not  so  much  as  the  size  of 
a  nut  remaining  thereof ;  yet  during  all  that  time  I 
have  never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire. 
Nevertheless,  I  will  do  that  which  it  is  fitting  that  I 
should  for  an  embassy  from  Arthur.  There  is  a 
race  of  animals  who  were  formed  before  me,  and  I 
will  be  your  guide  to  them." 

So  they  proceeded  to  the  place  where  was  the 
Stag  of  Redynvre.  "  Stag  of  Redynvre,  behold,  wc 
are  come  to  thee,  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  for  we 
have  not  heard  of  any  animal  older  than  thou. 
Say,  knowest  thou  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of 
Modron,  who  was  taken  from  his  mother  when  three 
nights  old  ?  "  The  Stag  said,  "  When  first  I  came 
hither  there  was  a  plain  all  around  me,  without  any  • 
trees  save  one  oak  sapling,  which  grew  up  to  be  an 


KILWICH   AND    OLWEN.  399 

oak  with  an  hundred  branches;  and  that  oak  has 
since  perished,  so  that  now  nothing  remains  of  it 
but  the  withered  stump ;  and  from  that  day  to  this 
I  have  been  here,  yet  have  I  never  heard  of  the  man 
for  whom  you  mquire.  Nevertheless,  being  an  em- 
bassy from  Arthur,  I  will  be  your  guide  to  the 
place  where  there  is  an  animal  which  was  formed 
before  I  was,  and  the  oldest  animal  in  the  world, 
and  the  one  that  has  travelled  most,  the  Eagle  of 
Gwern  Abwy." 

^urhyr  said,  '^  Eagle  of  Gwern  Abwy,  we  have 
come  to  thee,  an  embassy  from  Arthur,  to  ask  thee 
if  thou  knowest  aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron, 
who  was  taken  from  his  mother  when  he  was  three 
nights  old  ?  "  The  Eagle  said,  "  I  have  been  here 
for  a  great  space  of  time,  and  when  I  first  came 
hither,  there  was  a  rock  here  from  the  top  of  which 
I  pecked  af  the  stars  every  evening;  and  it  has 
crumbled  away,  and  now  it  is  not  so  much  as  a  span 
high.  All  that  time  I  have  been  here,  and  I  have 
never  heard  of  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire, 
except  once  when  I  went  in  search  of  food  as  far  as 
Llyn  Llyw.  And  when  I  came  there,  I  struck  my 
talons  into  a  salmon,  thinking  he  would  serve  me 
as  food  for  a  long  time.  But  he  drew  me  into 
the  water,  and  I  was  scarcely  able  to  escape  from 
him.  After  that  I  made  peace  with  him.  And  I 
drew  fifty  fish-spears  out  of  his  back,  and  relieved 
liim.  Unless  he  know  sometliing  of  him  whom  you 
seek,  I  cannot  tell  who  may.  However,  I  will  guide 
you  to  the  place  where  he  is." 


400  THE    MABINOGEON. 

So  tliej  went  thither ;  and  the  Eagle  said,  "  Sal- 
mon of  Llyn  Lljw,  I  have  come  to  thee  with  an 
embassy  from  Arthur,  to  ask  thee  if  thou  knowc::t 
aught  of  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron,  who  was  taken 
away  at  three  nights  old  from  his  mother."  '^  As 
much  as  I  know  I  will  tell  thee.  With  every  tide  I 
go  along  the  river  upward,  until  I  come  near  to  the 
walls  of  Gloucester,  and  there  have  I  found  such 
wrong  as  I  never  found  elsewhere  ;  and  to  the  end 
that  ye  may  give  credence  thereto,  let  one  of  you  go 
thither  upon  each  of  my  two  shoulders."  So  Kay 
and  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  went  upon  the  two  shoulders 
of  the  Salmon,  and  they  proceeded  until  they  came 
unto  the  wall  of  the  prison ;  and  they  heard  a  great 
wailing  and  lamenting  from  the  dungeon.  Said 
Gurhyr,  "  Who  is  it  that  laments  in  this  house 
of  stone  ?  "  "  Alas  !  it  is  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron, 
who  is  here  imprisoned  ;  and  no  imprisonment  was 
ever  so  grievous  as  mine."  "  Hast  thou  hope 
of  being  released  for  gold  or  for  silver,  or  for  any 
gifts  of  wealth,  or  through  battle  and  fighting  ?  " 
"  By  fighting  will  whatever  I  may  gain  be  obtained." 

Then  they  went  thence,  and  returned  to  Artluir, 
and  they  told  him  where  Mabon,  the  son  of  Modron, 
was  imprisoned.  And  Arthur  summoned  the  war- 
riors of  the  island,  and  they  journeyed  as  far  as  Glou- 
cester, to  the  place  where  Mabon  was  in  prison.  Kay 
and  Bedwyr  Avent  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  fish, 
whilst  the  warriors  of  Arthur  attacked  the  castle. 
And  Kay  broke  through  the  wall  into  the  dungeon, 


KILWICH   AND    OLWEN.  401 

and  brought  away  the  prisoner  upon  his  back,  whilst 
the  fight  was  going  on  between  the  warriors.  And 
Arthur  returned  home,  and  Mabon  with  him  at 
liberty. 

On  a  certain  day  as  Gurhyr  Gwalstat  was  walk- 
ing over  a  mountain,  he  heard  a  wailing  and  a 
grievous  cry.  And  when  he  heard  it,  he  sprung 
forward  and  went  towards  it.  And  when  he  came 
there,  he  saw  a  fire  burning  among  the  turf,  and  an 
ant-hill  nearly  surrounded  with  the  fire.  And  he 
drew  his  sword,  and  smote  off  the  ant-hill  close  to 
the  earth,  so  that  it  escaped  being  burned  in  the 
fire.  And  the  ants  said  to  him,  "  Receive  from  us 
the  blessing  of  Heaven,  and  that  which  no  man  can 
give,  we  will  give  thee."  Then  they  fetched  the 
nine  bushels  of  flax-seed  which  Yspadaden  Penkawr 
had  required  of  Kilwich,  and  they  brought  the  full 
measure,  without  lacking  any,  except  one  flax-seed, 
and  that  the  lame  pismire  brought  in  before  night. 

Then  said  Arthur,  "  Which  of  the  marvels  will  it 
be  best  for  us  to  seek  next  ?  "  ^'  It  will  be  best  to 
seek  for  the  two  cubs  of  the  wolf  Gast  Rhymhi." 

"  Is  it  known,  "  said  Arthur,  "  where  she  is  ?  " 
"  She  is  in  Aber  Cleddyf,"  said  one.  Then  Arthur 
went  to  the  house  of  Tringad,  in  Aber  Cleddyf,  and 
he  inquired  of  him  whether  he  had  heard  of  her 
there.  "  She  has  often  slain  my  herds,  and  she  is 
there  below  in  a  cave  in  Aber  Cleddyf." 

Then  Arthur  went  in  his  ship  Prydwen  by  sea, 
and  the  others  went  by  land  to  hunt  her.    And  they 

34=^ 


402  *  THE   MABINOGEON. 

surroTinded  her  and  her  two  cubs,  and  took  them, 
and  carried  them  away. 

As  Kay  and  Bedwyr  sat  on  a  beacon-cairn  on  the 
summit  of  Plinlimmon,  in  the  highest  wind  that 
ever  was,  they  looked  around  them  and  saw  a  great 
smoke,  afar  off.  Then  said  Kay,  ''  By  the  hand  of 
my  friend,  yonder  is  the  fire  of  a  robber."  Then 
they  hastened  towards  the  smoke,  and  they  came  so 
near  to  it  that  they  could  see  Dillus  Varwawc 
scorching  a  wild  boar.  ''  Behold,  yonder  is  the 
greatest  robber  that  ever  fled  from  Arthur,'!^  said 
Bedwyr  to  Kay.  "  Dost  thou  know  him  ?  "  "I  do 
know  him,"  answered  Kay  ;  "  he  is  Dillus  Varwawc, 
and  no  leash  in  the  world  will  be  able  to  hold  the 
cubs  of  Gast  Rhymhi,  save  a  leash  made  from  the 
beard  of  him  thou  seest  yonder.  And  even  that  will 
be  useless  unless  his  beard  be  plucked  out  alive, 
with  wooden  tweezers;  for  if  dead  it  will  be  brittle." 
"  What  thinkest  thou  that  we  should  do  concerning 
this?"  said  Bedwyr.  "Let  us  suffer  him,"  said 
Kay,  "  to  eat  as  much  as  he  will  of  the  meat,  and 
after  that  he  will  fall  asleep."  And  during  that 
time  they  employed  themselves  in  making  the  wood- 
en tweezers.  And  when  Kay  knew  certainly  that 
he  was  asleep,  he  made  a  pit  under  his  feet,  and  he 
struck  him  a  violent  blow,  and  squeezed  him  into 
the  pit.  And  there  they  twitched  out  his  beard 
completely  with  the  wooden  tweezers,  and  after  that 
they  slew  him  altogether.  And  from  thence  they 
went,  and  took  the  leash  made  of  Dillus  Varwawc's 
beard,  and  they  gave  it  into  Arthur's  hand. 


KILWICn   AND    OLWEN.  403 

Thus  tliey  got  all  the  marvels  that  Yspadaden 
Penkawr  had  required  of  Kilwich ;  and  they  set  for- 
ward, and  took  the  marvels  to  his  court.  And  Kil- 
wich  said  to  Yspadaden  Penkawr,  "  Is  thy  daughter 
mine  now  ?  "  "  She  is  thine,"  said  he,  "  but  there- 
fore needest  thou  not  thank  me,  but  Arthur,  who 
hath  accomplished  this  for  thee."  Then  Goreu,  the 
son  of  Custennin,  the  herdsman,  whose  brothers 
Yspadaden  Penkawr  had  slain,  seized  him  by  the 
hair  of  his  head,  and  dragged  him  after  him  to  the 
keep,  and  cut  off  his  head,  and  placed  it  on  a  stake 
on  the  citadel.  Then  they  took  possession  of  his 
castle,  and  of  his  treasures.  And  that  night  Olwen 
became  Kilwich's  bride,  and  she  continued  to  be  his 
wife  as  long  as  she  lived. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

TALIESIN. 

GwYDDNO  GrARANHiR  was  Sovereign  of  Gwaelod,  a 
territory  bordering  on  the  sea.  And  he  possessed  a 
weir  ui^on  the  strand  between  Djvi  and  Aberyst- 
wyth, near  to  his  own  castle,  and  the  value  of  an 
hundred  pounds  was  taken  in  that  weir  every  May 
eve.  And  Gwyddno  had  an  only  son  named  Elphin, 
the  most  hapless  of  youths,  and  the  most  needy. 
And  it  grieved  his  father  sore,  for  he  thought  that 
he  was  born  in  an  evil  hour.  By  the  advice  of  his 
council,  his  father  had  granted  him  the  drawing  of 
the  weir  that  year,  to  see  if  good  luck  would  ever 
befall  him,  and  to  give  him  something  wherewith  to 
begin  the  world.  And  this  was  on  the  twenty-ninth 
of  April. 

The  next  day,  when  Elphin  went  to  look,  there 
was  nothing  in  the  weir  but  a  leathern  bag  upon  a 
pole  of  the  weir.  Then  said  the  weir-ward  unto 
Elphin,  "  All  thy  ill-luck  aforetime  was  nothing  to 
this  ;  and  now  thou  hast  destroyed  the  virtues  of  the 
weir,  which  always  yielded  the  value  of  an  hundred 


TALIESIN.  405 

pounds  every  May  eve ;  and  to-night  there  is  noth- 
ing but  this  leathern  skin  within  it."  "  How  now," 
said  Elphin,  "  there  may  be  therein  the  vahio  of  a 
hundred  pounds."  Well !  they  took  up  the  leath- 
ern ba^,  and  he  who  opened  it  saw  the  forehead  of 
an  inf^xnt,  the  fairest  that  ever  was  seen ;  and  he 
said,  "  Behold  a  radiant  brow !  "  (in  the  Welsh  lan- 
guage, taliesin.')  "  Taliesin  be  he  called,"  said  El- 
phin. And  he  lifted  the  bag  in  his  arms,  and, 
lamenting  his  bad  luck,  placed  the  boy  sorrowfully 
behind  him.  And  he  made  his  horse  amble  gently, 
that  before  had  been  trotting,  and  he  carried  him  as 
softly  as  if  he  had  been  sitting  in  the  easiest  chair  in 
the  world.  And  presently  the  boy  made  a  Consola- 
tion, and  praise  to  Elphin  ;  and  the  Consolation  was 
as  you  may  here  see. 

"  Fair  Elphin,  cease  to  lament  I 
Never  in  Gwyddno's  weir 
"Was  there  such  good  luck  as  this  night. 
Being  sad  will  not  avail ; 
Better  to  trust  in  God  than  to  forebode  ill ; 
Weak  and  small  as  I  am, 
On  the  foaming  beach  of  the  ocean, 
In  the  day  of  trouble  I  shall  be 
Of  more  service  to  thee  than  three  hundred  salmon." 

This  was  the  first  poem  that  Taliesin  ever  sung, 
being  to  console  Elphin  in  his  grief  for  that  the  pro- 
duce of  the  weir  was  lost,  and  what  was  worse,  that 
all  the  world  would  consider  that  ifc  was  through 
his  fault  and  ill-luck.     Then  Elphin   asked  him 


406  THE    MABINOGEOX. 

what  he  was,  whether  man  or  spirit.     And  he  sung 
thus :  — 

"I  have  been  formed  a  comely  person ; 
Although  I  am  but  little,  I  am  highly  gifted ; 
Into  a  dark  leathern  bag  I  was  thrown, 
And  on  a  boundless  sea  I  was  sent  adrift. 
From  seas  and  from  mountains 
God  brings  wealth  to  the  fortunate  man." 

Then  came  Elphin  to  the  house  of  Gwjddno,  his 
father,  and  Taliesin  with  him.  Gwjddno  asked  him 
if  he  had  had  a  good  haul  at  the  weir,  and  he  told 
him  that  he  had  got  that  which  was  better  than  fish. 
"  What  was  that  ?  "  said  Gwyddno.  "  A  bard,"  said 
Elphin.  Then  said  Gwjddno,  "  Alas  !  what  will  he 
profit  thee  ? "  And  Taliesin  himself  replied  and 
said,  "  He  will  profit  him  more  than  the  weir  ever 
profited  thee."  Asked  Gwyddno,  ''  Art  thou  able 
to  speak,  and  thou  so  little?"  And  Taliesin  an- 
swered him,  '^  I  am  better  able  to  speak  than  thou 
to  question  me."  "  Let  me  hear  what  thou  canst 
say,"  quoth  Gwyddno.     Then  Taliesin  sang:  — 

"  Three  times  have  I  been  bom,  I  know  by  meditation ; 
All  the  sciences  of  the  world  are  collected  in  my  breast, 
For  I  know  what  has  been,  and  what  hereafter  will  occur." 

Elphin  gave  his  haul  to  his  wife,  and  she  nursed 
him  tenderly  and  lovingly.  Thenceforward  Elphin 
increased  in  riches  more  and  more,  day  after  day, 
and  in  love  and  favor  with  the  king;  and  there 
abode   Taliesin   until    he   was   thirteen   years   old, 


TALIESIN.  407 

when  Elpliin,  son  of  Gwyddno,  went  by  a  Christmas 
invitation  to  his  uncle,  Maelgan  Gwynedd,  who 
held  open  court  at  Christmas-tide  in  the  castle  of 
Dyganwy,  for  all  the  number  of  his  lords  of  both  de- 
grees, both  spiritual  and  temporal,  with  a  vast  and 
thronged  host  of  knights  and  squires.  And  one 
arose  and  said,  "  Is  there  in  the  whole  world  a  king 
so  great  as  Maelgan,  or  one  on  whom  Heaven  has 
bestowed  so  many  gifts  as  upon  him;  —  form,  and 
beauty,  and  meekness,  and  strength,  besides  all  the 
powers  of  the  soul  ? "  And  together  with  these 
they  said  that  Heaven  had  given  one  gift  that  ex- 
ceeded all  the  others,  which  was  the  beauty,  and 
grace,  and  wisdom,  and  modesty  of  his  queen, 
whose  virtues  surpassed  those  of  all  the  ladies  and 
noble  maidens  throughout  the  whole  kingdom. 
And  with  this  they  put  questions  one  to  another, 
Who  had  braver  men  ?  Who  had  fairer  or  swifter 
horses  or  greyhounds?  Who  had  more  skilful  or 
wiser  bards  than  Maelgan? 

When  they  had  all  made  an  end  of  their  praising 
the  king  and  his  gifts,  it  befell  that  Elpliin  spoke  on 
this  wise.  "  Of  a  truth,  none  but  a  king  may  vie 
with  a  king ;  but  were  he  not  a  king,  I  would  say 
that  my  wife  was  as  virtuous  as  any  lady  in  the 
kingdom,  and  also  that  I  have  a  bard  who  is  more 
skilful  than  all  the  king's  bards."  In  a  short  space 
some  of  his  fellows  told  the  king  all  the  boastings 
of  Elphin ;  and  the  king  ordered  him  to  be  thrown 
into  a  strong  prison,  until  he  might  show  the  truth 


408  THE   MABINOGEON. 

as  to  the  virtues  of  his  wife,  and  the  wisdom  of  his 
bard. 

Now  when  Elphin  had  been  put  in  a  tower  of  the 
castle,  with  a  thick  chain  about  his  feet,  (it  is  said 
that  it  was  a  silver  cliain,  because  he  was  of  royal 
blood,)  the  king,  as  the  story  relates,  sent  his  son 
Rhun  to  inquire  into  the  demeanor  of  Elphin's  wife. 
Now  Rhun  was  the  most  graceless  man  in  the  world, 
and  there  was  neither  wife  nor  maiden  with  whom 
he  held  converse,  but  was  evil  spoken  of.  While 
Rhun  went  in  haste  towards  Elphin's  dwelling,  be- 
ing fully  minded  to  bring  disgrace  upon  his  wife, 
Taliesin  told  his  mistress  how  that  the  king  had 
placed  his  master  in  durance  in  prison,  and  how 
that  Rhun  was  coming  in  haste  to  strive  to  bring 
disgrace  upon  her.  Wherefore  he  caused  his  mis- 
tress to  array  one  of  the  maids  of  her  kitchen  in  her 
apparel ;  which  the  noble  lady  gladly  did,  and  she 
loaded  her  hands  with  the  best  rings  that  she  and 
her  husband  possessed. 

In  this  guise  Taliesin  caused  his  mistress  to  put 
the  maiden  to  sit  at  the  board  in  her  room  at  sup- 
per ;  and  he  made  her  to  seem  as  her  mistress,  and 
the  mistress  to  seem  as  the  maid.  And  when  they 
were  in  due  time  seated  at  their  supper,  in  the  man- 
ner that  has  been  said,  Rhun  suddenly  arrived  at 
Elphin's  dwelling,  and  was  received  with  joy,  for 
the  servants  knew  him;  and  they  brought  him  to 
the  room  of  their  mistress,  in  the  semblance  of 
whom  the  maid  rose  up  from  supper  and  welcomed 


TALIESIN.  409 

liim  gladly.  And  afterwards  she  sat  down  to  sup- 
per again,  and  Elmn  with  her.  Then  Rhiin  began 
jesting  with  the  maid,  who  still  kept  the  semblance 
of  her  mistress.  And  verily  this  story  shows  that 
the  juaiden  became  so  intoxicated  that  she  fell 
asleep ;  and  the  story  relates  that  it  was  a  powder 
that  Rhun  put  into  the  drink,  that  made  her  sleep 
so  soundly  that  she  never  felt  it  when  he  cut  off 
from  her  hand  her  little  finger,  whereon  was  the 
signet  ring  of  Elphin,  which  he  had  sent  to  his  wife 
as  a  token  a  short  time  before.  And  Rhun  returned 
to  the  king  with  the  finger  and  the  ring  as  a  proof, 
to  show  that  he  had  cut  it  off  from  her  hand  with- 
out her  awaking  from  her  sleep  of  intemperance. 

The  king  rejoiced  greatly  at  these  tidings,  and  he 
sent  for  his  councillors,  to  whom  he  told  the  whole 
story  from  the  beginning.  And  he  caused  Elphin 
to  be  brought  out  of  prison,  and  he  eluded  him  be- 
cause of  his  boast.  And  he  spake  on  this  wise : 
''  Elphin,  be  it  known  to  thee  beyond  a  doubt,  that 
it  is  but  folly  for  a  man  to  trust  in  the  virtues  of  his 
wife  further  than  he  can  see  her;  and  that  thou 
mayest  be  certain  of  thy  wife's  vileness,  behold  her 
finger,  with  thy  signet  ring  upon  it,  which  was  cut 
from  her  hand  last  night,  while  she  slept  the  sleep 
of  intoxication."  Then  thus  spake  Elphin :  "  With 
thy  leave,  mighty  king,  I  cannot  deny  my  ring,  for 
it  is  known  of  many ;  but  verily  I  assert  that  the 
finger  around  which  it  is  was  never  attached  to  the 
hand  of  my  wife ;  for  in  truth  and  certainty  there 

35 


410  THE   3IABIN0GE0N. 

are  three  notable  things  pertaining  to  it,  none  of 
which  ever  belonged  to  any  of  my  wife's  fingers. 
The  first  of  the  three  is,  that  it  is  certainly  known 
to  me  that  this  ring  would  never  remain  upon  her 
thumb,  whereas  you  can  plainly  see  that  it  is  hard 
to  draw  it  over  the  joint  of  the  little  finger  of  the 
hand  whence  this  was  cut.  The  second  thing  is,  that 
my  wife  has  never  let  pass  one  Saturday  since  I 
have  known  her,  without  paring  her  nails  before 
going  to  bed,  and  you  can  see  fully  that  the  nail  of 
this  little  finger  has  not  been  pared  for  a  month. 
The  third  is,  truly,  that  the  hand  whence  this  finger 
came  was  kneading  rye  dough  within  three  days  be- 
fore the  finger  was  cut  therefrom,  and  I  can  assure 
your  highness  that  my  wife  has  never  kneaded  rye 
dough  since  my  wife  she  has  been." 

The  king  was  mightily  wroth  with  Elphin  for  so 
stoutly  withstanding  him,  respecting  the  goodness 
of  his  wife  ;  wherefore  he  ordered  him  to  his  prison 
a  second  time,  saying  that  he  should  not  be  loosed 
thence  until  he  had  proved  the  truth  of  his  boast, 
as  well  concerning  the  wisdom  of  his  bard  as  the 
virtues  of  his  wife. 

In  the  mean  time  his  wife  and  Taliesin  remained 
joyful  at  Elphin's  dwelling.  And  Taliesin  showed 
his  mistress  how  that  Elphin  was  in  prison  because 
of  them ;  but  he  bade  her  be  glad,  for  that  he  would 
go  to  Maelgan's  court  to  free  his  master.  So  he  took 
leave  of  his  mistress,  and  came  to  the  court  of  Mael- 
gan,  who  was  going  to  sit  in  his  hall,  and  dine  in 


TALIESIN.  411 

Ills  royal  ^tate,  as  ilr  was  the  custom  in  those  days 
for  kings  and  princes  to  do  at  every  chief  feast.  As 
soon  as  Taliesin  entered  the  hall,  he  placed  himself 
in  a  quiet  corner,  near  the  place  where  the  bards 
and  the  minstrels  were  wont  to  come,  in  doing  their 
service  and  duty  to  the  king,  as  is  the  custom  at  the 
high  festivals,  when  the  bounty  is  proclaimed.  So, 
when  the  bards  and  the  heralds  came  to  cry  largess, 
and  to  proclaim  the  power  of  the  king,  and  his 
strength,  at  the  moment  when  they  passed  by  the 
corner  wherein  he  was  crouching,  Taliesin  pouted  out 
his  lips  after  them,  and  played  "  Blerwm,  blerwm!" 
with  his  finger  upon  his  lips.  Neither  took  they 
much  notice  of  him  as  they  went  by,  but  pro- 
ceeded forward  till  they  came  before  the  king,  unto 
whom  they  made  their  obeisance  with  their  bodies, 
as  they  were  wont,  without  speaking  a  single  word, 
but  pouting  out  their  lips,  and  making  mouths  at 
the  king,  playing  "  Blerwm,  blerwm  !  "  upon  their 
lips  with  their  fingers,  as  they  had  seen  the  boy  do. 
This  sight  caused  the  king  to  wonder,  and  to  deem 
within  himself  that  they  were  drunk  with  many 
liquors.  "Wherefore  he  commanded  one  of  his  lords, 
who  served  at  the  board,  to  go  to  them  and  desire 
them  to  collect  their  wits,  and  to  consider  where 
they  stood,  and  what  it  was  fitting  for  them  to  do. 
And  this  lord  did  so  gladly.  But  they  ceased  not 
from  their  folly  any  more  than  before.  Whereupon 
he  sent  to  them  a  second  time,  and  a  third,  desiring 
them  to  go  forth  from  the  hall.    At  the  last  the  king 


412  THE   MABINOGEON. 

ordered  one  of  his  squires  to  give  a  blow  to  the  chief 
of  them,  named  Heinin  Vardd  ;  and  the  squire  took 
a  broom  and  struck  him  on  the  head,  so  that  he  fell 
back  in  his  seat.  Then  he  arose,  and  went  on  his 
knees,  and  besought  leave  of  the  king's  grace  to 
show  that  this  their  fault  was  not  through  want  of 
knowledge,  neither  through  drunkenness,  but  by 
the  influence  of  some  spirit  that  was  in  the  hall. 
And  he  spoke  on  this  wise  :  "  0  honorable  king,  be 
it  known  to  your  grace  that  not  from  the  strength 
of  drink,  or  of  too  much  liquor,  are  we  dumb,  but 
through  the  influence  of  a  spirit  that  sits  in  the  cor- 
ner yonder,  in  the  form  of  a  child."  Forthwith  the 
king  commanded  the  squire  to  fetch  him ;  and  he 
went  to  the  nook  where  Taliesin  sat,  and  brought 
him  before  the  king,  who  asked  him  what  he  was, 
and  whence  he  came.  And  he  answered  the  king 
in  verse :  — 

"  Primary  chief  bard  am  I  to  Elphin, 
And  my  native  countiy  is  the  region  of  the  summer  stars ; 
I  have  been  in  Asia  with  Noah  in  the  ark, 
I  have  seen  the  destruction  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
I  was  in  India  when  Rome  was  built, 
I  have  now  come  here  to  the  remnant  of  Troia." 

When  the  king  and  his  nobles  had  heard  the  song, 
they  wondered  much,  for  they  had  never  heard  the 
like  from  a  boy  so  young  as  he.  And  when  the 
king  knew  that  he  was  the  bard  of  Elphin,  he  bade 
Heinin,  his  first  and  wisest  bard,  to  answer  Taliesin, 
and  to  strive  with  him.     But  when  he  came,  he 


TALIESIN.  413 

could  do  no  other  than  play  "  Blerwm ! "  on  his  lips  ; 
and  when  he  sent  for  the  others  of  the  four  and 
twenty  bards,  they  all  did  likewise,  and  could  do  no 
other.  And  Maelgan  asked  the  boy  Taliesin  what 
was  his  errand,  and  he  answered  him  in  song  :  — 

"  Elphin,  the  son  of  Gwyddno, 
Is  in  the  land  of  Artro, 
Secured  by  thirteen  locks, 
Tor  praising  his  instructor. 
Therefore  I,  Taliesin, 
Chief  of  the  bards  of  the  west, 
Will  loosen  Elphin 
Out  of  a  golden  fetter/' 

Then  he  sang  to  them  a  riddle  :  — 

"  Discover  thou  what  is 
The  strong  creature  from  before  the  flood, 
Without  flesh,  without  bone. 
Without  vein,  without  blood, 
Without  head,  without  feet ; 
It  will  neither  be  older  nor  younger 
Than  at  the  beginning. 
Behold  how  the  sea  whitens 
When  first  it  comes. 
When  it  comes  from  the  souths 
When  it  strikes  on  coasts. 
It  is  in  the  field,  it  is  in  the  wood, 
But  the  eye  cannot  perceive  it. 
One  Being  has  prepared  it, 
By  a  tremendous  blast, 
To  wreak  vengeance 
On  Maelgan  Gwynedd." 

While  he  was  thus  singing  his  verse,  there  arose 
a  mighty  storm  of  wind,  so  that  the  king  and  all  his 
nobles  thought  that  the  castle  would  fall  upon  their 


414  THE   MABINOGEON. 

heads.  And  the  king  caused  them  to  fetch  Elphin 
in  haste  from  his  dungeon,  and  placed  him  before 
Taliesin.  And  it  is  said  that  immediatelj  he  sung 
a  verse,  so  that  the  chains  opened  from  about  his 
feet. 

After  that  Taliesin  brought  Elphin' s  wife  before 
them,  and  showed  that  she  had  not  one  finger  want- 
ing. And  in  this  manner  did  he  set  his  master  free 
from  prison,  and  protect  the  innocence  of  his  mis- 
tress, and  silence  the  bards  so  that  not  one  of  them 
dared  to  saj  a  word.  Right  glad  was  Elphin,  right 
glad  was  Taliesin. 


THE    END. 


Q 


DAY    AND    TO    «l  nn    «  ^  °'^  THE  FOURTH 

OVERDUE.  *'°°    ^'^    THE    SEVENTH    dIy 


2lifiKW0|____ 


■'  •-;  I    '  '■ 


L"ia!j»54BC_ 


Mi-'m^^(rpw- 


LD21-I00m.7,'40(6936s)l 


YB  76678 


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